


Blood is Thicker

by LunaFaye



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Bullying, Class Issues, Consent Play, Convincing to Exhibitionism, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Exhibitionism, F/M, Kinky, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Past Character Death, Pegging, Rimming, Threats, Threats of Violence, Torture, Vampires, Voyeurism, Werewolves, implied/accusations of non consensual sexual contact, kissing unconscious person, mentions of drugging without knowledge/consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 147,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaFaye/pseuds/LunaFaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is one of the vampire underclass doing his best to survive in LA. He loathes what he is and struggles to find ethical ways to do what he needs to do to stay alive. Zach, an upper-class werewolf, has left a broken relationship behind him in Pittsburgh for a new job and a new city. Things are very different in LA - and much more dangerous than he realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though I never expected this moment to come, it certainly wouldn't have without the wonderful support I've received from my fantastic, without a doubt the absolute best betas in the entire universe: Medeafic and Emmessann (who saw a very different earlier draft). Thank you with every molecule of my heart, I owe you both SO much! <333 :D
> 
> This fic is already written, but I'm editing later chapters still. I hope to post a chapter a week. Please note that in later chapters there are explicit sex scenes and scenes of graphic violence. I'll update the tags with each new chapter I post.
> 
> The dubious consent referred to in the tags is around vampire bites and attacks. Please feel free to contact me via the comments if you have any questions or if you think I need to add extra tags.

The first thing that happens is the sudden beating of a previously still heart. Then the lungs take in the first breath, and the once-lifeless body regains the ability to move. When everything is working Chris opens his eyes. Though he lies in what is essentially a dark place, he is aware that outside the sun’s lethal rays have softened to the rich flame of evening.

He dresses in black jeans and a clinging black t-shirt, paired with chunky, black leather boots that are decorated with bits of chain. He draws black eye liner around each eye, and styles his hair to look as though he hasn’t tended to it in weeks.

It’s still early, so he plays his latest game, and it’s in these solitary moments he finds himself forgetting and actually feeling happy when he completes a difficult level, or solves a particularly complex problem.

When it’s well and truly dark outside and the clock tells him it’s almost ten, he makes his way to Bar Sinister, all the while hoping no one will show. It’s a stupid thought, they always show, and after all it’s Saturday night. But Saturday is the day he becomes his true self. A creature he despises; a monster.

The partial moon is bright, lighting the street up with the navy blue of a clear night, enhancing the golden glow of the street lamps. Once he’s hidden in the shadows across the street, he watches, as the line grows waiting for the bar to open. The chill of late autumn sees them stamping feet and breathing into frosty hands; the cold hasn’t been a problem for Chris for a number of lifetimes. They’re all dressed in black, or costumes depicting vampires and demons and all manner of hell-forged creature. Their nature towards one another, as they patiently wait, is in stark contrast to how they look; chatting good naturedly, excited at the promise of a good night out. His eyes flick from one to another, a girl with horns laughs with her fiendish looking friend, a guy with eyeliner and black lips enthusiastically describes his day to his caped buddy with spiked black hair; each and every one, completely oblivious to the voyeuristic threat, hidden in darkness.

He envies them their ignorance, well, the majority who have no idea.

The music starts, a strong, harsh beat, raspy and distorted, that throbs through the walls with higher pitched, digitised vocals. The crowded line gives a cheer and the doors open, signalling that the fun is about to begin. Girls begin to dance as they walk over the threshold, and guys finish up their stories as they shepherd each other inside.

Chris watches and waits. He knows the hesitation is procrastination, but he refuses to simply rush in and get the whole business over with. There’s time enough for everyone to get into the swing of the night. Let them dance and unwind, and relax with a drink or two. They’re people after all, human beings. Not like him.

It’s been a week since Chris last fed and he can feel his hunger beginning to take over as he crosses the street and enters the bar. The dance floor is crammed full of people writhing and shaking to the hammering beat. Chris clenches his fists, steadies his breathing as each temptation bumps and grinds passed him. He makes it to the bar, barely managing to keep his need in check, and thankfully gets the bartender’s attention.

“Christopher Hotness Pine, how are you gorgeous?” says a tall woman, shouting over the music. She’s dressed in a tight black corset, with killer thigh high boots. Chris appraises her long tresses that have been meticulously straightened, and shine a sleek blue-black. She’s wearing contacts, his favourite, as they make her eyes death pale, turning the pupils into mere points without the usual iris.

“Well, thank you Lucia, you’re looking stunning as always,” he says. He’s always marvelled at how well Lucia looks after herself. She’s in her late thirties, but doesn’t look much older than twenty.

A girl suddenly pushes in next to him at the bar, and he has difficulty swallowing when he sees the tendons in her neck move, as she turns to him.

“Oops, sorry,” she says, smiling broadly. “Oh hey, cool contacts dude, they really rock!” Due to his hunger, Chris’s eyes have turned red. Few people know the truth, but those who do respect his desire for privacy. That or, as Chris suspects to be the greater truth, they fear him.

Chris manages to smile and nod in thanks, as an unwelcome spike of remorse pierces his chest. In spite of the careful arrangements he’s made, to ensure he does as little damage as possible, it still saddens him that this is what he is, and what he does to survive.

“Freda’s here to see you,” says Lucia, and he’s relieved to turn away from the girl. “But I think she’s been approached. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” he says. He likes Freda. She’s one of a few who understands his need, but he’ll never understand why she proudly wears the mark he leaves, as though it’s a tattoo. The only comfort he can find is in that fact that it’s wanted, that it’s consensual, and the people who come to see him are doing so because of what he will do for them.

“She upstairs?” he asks.

Lucia nods, already getting distracted by other customers.  “I’ll come up after,” she says. “It’s been a while since we partied.”

He smiles in reply, but his lips are a thin line. She likes it rough.

Upstairs, he reaches a door with a stylised sign saying ‘Purgatory’. Infamous in its reputation, Bar Sinister enables guests, seeking more than a simple drink and a dance, to indulge in their fantasies of control. Legalities were something Chris never asked about, and Lucia never told. He sees a young sub receiving a less than pleasant-looking flogging across his reddening ass. His cries speak of the pain he feels, but he’s begging his mistress for more. Other groups are making use of the facilities available: including a wall of toys, a large hook in the ceiling to suspend a person by ropes or chains, and two racks for tying up subs; one vertical, and one horizontal.

The vertical rack is occupied with a partially naked woman, her hands and ankles tightly bound. Her leather suit permits her breasts to hang free, and each nipple is clamped by a bulldog clip. She’s being looked after by someone completely covered from head to toe in black PVC leather, they’re telling her to be quiet, and that she’s being punished for some kind of infraction. In spite of the outward appearance, Chris can see the woman is desperate to please.

The horizontal rack has an older man strapped to it. Two dominatrices are striking his large belly with riding crops, each taking a turn to call him all sorts of terrible things. At the same time he’s telling them how much he deserves it, and thanking them for the punishment.

Leaving the excited BDSM parties to their pleasures, Chris reaches an unobtrusive black door, almost hidden by the dark decor. There’s a realistically painted picture of fangs, with blood dripping; another fantasy Bar Sinister accommodates. And the only way Chris can get even remotely close enough to forgiving himself for what he’s about to do.

“Freda,” says Chris when he enters.

“Hey baby,” says Freda. The room is covered in red velvet, as though the cupcake itself exploded within its confines. A muted light, covered in red muslin shrouds the room in a gloom that is both calming and eerie, like being in a cave. It’s small but manages to accommodate a chaise lounge, an armchair and a small coffee table. There’s a little, red bar fridge in another corner with bottles of water and juice. The table is adorned with several antique silver jars. Chris always makes sure the supplies of cotton balls, bandaids and bandages are well stocked. He’s added to them since he’d first started and found that a few of his clients requested a gag. The largest jar, sitting in the centre, holds an array of individually wrapped cookies.

“Lucia said you had a friend,” he says, his voice low. She’ll be his first for the evening. She’s sits demurely on the lounge, wearing torn fishnets that match the equally tattered black tutu, and her bustier is beaded with little black diamantes. He licks his lips at the sight of her bare midriff, as the surge of his hunger strengthens, and the telltale burn in the back of his throat a sign that his need is becoming urgent. Christ, his mouth is even beginning to water.

“I hope you don’t mind, he shares the same kink. Well, he thinks he does. It would be his first time, but I trust you. I know you’ll make him feel good about it.”

“He _thinks_ he does? Freda, you know I won’t -”

“Yes, yes, I know, but he’s asked and wants to try. He’s seen my scar,” she says making a point of pushing her hair away from her neck. Two almost healed puncture wounds are nestled in the groove of her neck, just shy of her oesophagus. Chris knows it’s a common misconception that he would go for the jugular, but he needs the carotid artery and the oxygen-rich blood it’s carrying. He might be capable of breathing, but his physiology demands that he drink oxygenated blood. There were no text books when he was turned. As a fledgling he’d had to learn for himself. Vampires do not take care of their young.

“It might be best if we just talk. I don’t want to freak him out. Remember when we first tried? You refused to see me for a month.”

“Only because I was overcome with how wonderful it felt. I was terrified it was a once off, that it couldn’t possibly be that good again. You helped me explore safely, can’t you do the same for Anton?”

In spite of her words he can’t agree. He knows it’s what these people want, what they crave to feel good, but he can’t help feeling as though he’s taking something sacred, without the ability to give its worth back.

“Chris, baby,” she says. He can see she hesitates for a moment before she stands and walks over to him. Her hands are warm when she takes hold of his arm. “Come and make me feel good,” she says, holding his hand and pulling him towards the lounge.

Knowing he’s about to feed, Chris’s fangs extend from his lateral incisors, rather than the canines, as so many believe. They measure about an inch long and finish with a needle sharp tip.

They lie together on the lounge, and Chris lets her kiss him, her hands stroking over his face and shoulders, humming in approval when she feels his elongated teeth press against her mouth. He can feel her tongue slide over them, but she pulls back suddenly when she reaches the tip.

Her eyes widen, but there’s no fear. He can see himself reflected in her pupils and he almost shies away from her except she has him in a tight hold, and wraps a leg around his thigh to keep him in place.

“Don’t be shy now,” she says. “I want to feel your mouth on my neck.”

He leans up on one elbow and kisses her jaw, feels her writhe against him, the closer he gets to her throat. He touches her neck with the tips of his fingers, gently caressing the old wound.

“Chris, bite me,” she sighs her fingers delving into his hair. He kisses the scar and tastes her sweet skin. It’s all he can do to make sure it’s as comfortable an experience for her, as much as she wants the reminder; he doesn’t want to do any more damage than necessary. “Bite me, please bite me.”

With a quick jabbing action he sinks them in over the same puncture from the previous feeding. He likes to bite cleanly, and makes sure little, if any blood is wasted by suctioning his lips around the bite, and drawing against the flesh to extract the blood. It soothes as it flows, calming the ache and quenching the dry, fiery hollow that burns at the back of his throat. Rich and tangy, human blood is a sweet, spicy affair, nothing like the metallic undertone he barely remembers it having.

Freda cries out, but clings to him, holding him to her while he feeds. He’s careful to extract his teeth so the experience is remembered. The narcotic in his saliva would otherwise warp her memory, and the thrill she’s come to seek.

“Yes, yes,” she chants, stroking Chris’s back, as her other hand holds the back of his head.

Chris takes five mouthfuls before he pulls up and licks over the wound. Blood still trickles, but her body is already working to stop the flow. The holes he’s made in her artery are tiny, and her own healing closes them off quickly.

She pulls him close, kissing him again sucking at his mouth and lips, so she can taste her own blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Can I get you anything? A juice?” He’s up, and going to the jars he takes out a couple of cotton balls and bandaids.

Freda lies back against the chaise and laughs. “You’re so considerate,” she says, letting him tend to her bite wound. “Can I have a cookie, please?”

Chris opens the largest jar and pulls out a choc-chip one. It helps with the blood loss, though he does his best to keep it minimal. He hands her the cookie and sits beside her as she takes a bite.

“What was your friend’s name again?”

 “Anton, Anton Yelchin.”

“He’s here?”

“He’s downstairs. Did you want me to go find him?”

“Not yet, give yourself a moment before you stand.”

“I’ve shared my blood, not had a car accident,” she says breaking off a piece of cookie before popping it into her mouth. “Seriously, you need to chill.”

“I’m mindful of my donors,” he says.

She finishes the cookie and sits up. Chris has his hands out, ready to catch her, but she pushes them away and stands.

“See?” she says eyebrows raised. “I’m fine.”

“If you feel woozy, remember to sit down.”

“Oh my God, you worry too much,” she goes to the door. “I’m going to find Anton.” There’s a couple of others waiting at the door when she opens it. “Did _you_ need a minute?” she says.

Chris licks his fangs, “No, I’ll be okay.”

She laughs, leaving him to the guy and girl looking into the room eagerly.

“Do you do couples?” asks the girl.

Chris has five others before Freda comes back. She’s followed by a young guy who looks as though he’s barely left his teens. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a faded picture on the front, and black, skin-tight jeans that do little to hide the prominent bulge of his cock.

“He’s almost twenty, Chris,” says Freda, answering the question in his eyes. She’s guiding Anton forward until he’s directly in front of Chris. “Anton, this is Chris. Chris, Anton.”

“Hi,” says Chris and formally sticks out his hand.

“Oh Jesus,” says Anton, his eyes wide as he stares at Chris’s teeth. “They’re real?” He turns to Freda. “You said he was _real_?”

“One bona fide Vampire, at your service,” says Chris.

“Shit man, I thought you guys were, you know, an invention of Hollywood or something.”

“Not quite.”

“So if you bite me, will I become one too?”

“Ah, no, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Bummer, it must be so cool to be you!”

“It has its moments.”

“Okay, Anton, honey, do you want Chris to bite you, or do you want to just keep worshipping him?” says Freda, doing her best to get his attention, but having little effect as Anton is far too engrossed in Chris’s fangs. He’s used to it now, but Chris remembers the days when he first began to show people and he would get self-conscious and try to hide them.

“Anton,” says Chris and the kid manages to look up into his eyes.

“So cool,” he murmurs. Chris resists the urge to roll them, as Anton drinks in the fact that they’re red.

“Anton, since this is your first time, I need you to understand what I’m going to do to make it as pain free as possible.”

“It’s going to hurt?”

“A little, but not as much if you’d prefer it. Did you want Freda to stay, or just us?”

“She can stay, I know she likes to watch,” says Anton with a shrug.

“Alright then, why don’t we get undressed and I’ll get you to lie down here,” says Chris indicating the lounge.

“Oh, you mean naked?”

“Is that okay? I have condoms.”

“Oh, um, I guess. Why naked?”

“As Vampire I can neither catch nor transmit disease, but I want you to be comfortable in every way. And besides, if I were to simply bite you, it would hurt,” he says, making sure Anton’s listening. “If I bring you to orgasm and then bite, the endorphins produced while you come alleviate most of the pain of a bite. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah that’d be cool.”

“I’ll be here, honey,” says Freda touching Anton’s arm. She starts to get Anton undressed, pulling at his t-shirt. Chris shucks his boots and jeans, uninhibited that he’s naked in front of a complete stranger.

Chris sees his initial assessment was correct: Anton’s one well endowed young man. “I’m going to touch you, and make you feel good.”

“Okay,” says Anton in spite of the timid step he takes backwards when Chris steps forward.

“You’re sure now?” he reaches out and rests his hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Oh wow, you’re cold.”

“Come here.” He takes Anton’s hand and leads him to the lounge. He can sense the reluctance, but thinks it’s simply from the fact that it’s Anton’s first time. His hunger is nearly satiated, so he knows once he’s fed from Anton he’ll be fine for the week. Freda goes to sit in the armchair and Chris can see her biting her lip. She’s always been a bit of a voyeur, especially when it comes to biting.

They lie together on the lounge; Chris can feel Anton is tense and unsure. “Have you ever been with a guy?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, but we just kiss.”

“Okay, I’m going to do what I think you’ll enjoy. If you don’t like it, or if you want to stop, just tell me to stop.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Anton’s breath hitches, when Chris takes up his cock, but after a few strokes of the long length, he relaxes.

“You have fantasies of being bitten?” asks Chris.

“Yes,” says Anton. “I have dreams about it, and a lot of my art is inspired by Vampires.”

“What makes you want to get bitten?”

“You guys are so powerful and you’ll live forever. I want to be one of you, but to do that I have to be bitten. I want the pain, to know that my life is draining, but I’ll live again as Vampire.”

Chris almost falters at Anton’s words. He remembers vividly his own turning; it had been extremely painful, and not just physically. Had he been given the choice, Chris would have preferred mortality. “Hollywood has a lot to answer for,” he says.

Anton’s hard and beginning to drip pre-come. “Oh God,” he sighs and splays his legs, one knee leaning on Chris’s thigh, which gives the Vampire room to play with the kid’s balls. “Oh shit, no one’s touched me like this.”

“Are you a virgin Anton?”

“Yes,” he replies as barely a whisper. “Well, no, um, maybe. I’ve had sex with guys but I’ve only ever taken it. Does that make me a virgin?”

“Oh God,” Chris murmurs, unsure how to answer. He recalls earlier days when he was young and free and possibly in love. Even later, when he was enamoured and more experienced, he still preferred to be fucked. He begins kissing Anton’s neck. He can smell the slight musk of the kid’s body odour, the sweat from dancing downstairs.

“Oh shit.” Anton’s cock is dribbling considerably, and Chris uses it to lube his hand as he continues to stroke. His own cock is half hard, twitching as Anton begins to flex his hips. He allows himself to consider how it would feel, to have Anton’s thick cock plunging into him. The thought only makes his dick harder, and Anton’s face morphs into one he hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. The vision momentarily causes Chris to lose focus. “Jesus,” sighs Anton, and Chris realizes he’d been squeezing a little harder than he’d thought.

To get his mind back to the present, Chris licks the edge of Anton’s ear and feels the shiver pass though the kid’s body. He’s getting close, so he pays particular attention to the head, rubbing across the slit to the underside, which leaves Anton gasping.

“Oh, oh God,” he grunts and Chris feels the first pulse of the kid’s orgasm. As Anton shoots, Chris jabs his fangs into his neck. “Oh Jesus fuck!” Anton cries; his cock spurting as his blood erupts hotly into Chris’s mouth. Chris closes his eyes, sucks a little longer until he can feel Anton’s cock begin to wilt in his hand.

He pulls up carefully, licking up a stray droplet as it tries to escape. Chris sits up, watching closely as Anton, his eyes shut, breathes as though he’s had a long run.

“Anton?” says Freda. She comes over to the lounge, and gently touches his arm, which makes him open his eyes.

“Am I dead?” he asks.

Freda looks at Chris, then back at Anton. “No, honey. Are you okay?”

“I’ve never experienced anything so incredible in my entire life,” says Anton. He sits up, touches his neck and looks at the blood on his fingers.

“I can heal that if you don’t want a scar.”

“Seriously?” says Anton.

“Yeah, consider it a package deal.”

“You guys are so cool.”

Chris winces as he pushes the tip of his finger against one of his fangs. A bead of dark blood wells up. He smears it over the bite, watching as the skin heals over almost instantly. “There,” he says.

Anton feels his neck again, looks at Chris in surprise, he can’t feel the wound. “Oh wow,” he says.

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again, Anton.”

“When are you here?”

“Most Saturdays.”

Anton looks at Freda. “This is the best bar in the whole freaking world!”

“Okay, let’s give Chris a minute and we’ll find you some food,” says Freda. She helps him to dress, and as she’s pushing him out the door, looks back. “Lucia?”

“If she’s free,” says Chris. A night with Lucia is very different, and it depends on whether she wants to leave work early. She likes to play very rough, with a lot of pain and a lot of blood—that isn’t hers.

To keep his persona for his clients, Chris takes the dominant role they often crave, as part of the scenario. Lucia’s one of the few people in Chris’s life who knows what really turns him on. She wears specially-made fangs that enable her to puncture his skin. He loves the feeling it gives him; a vulnerability that lets him remember the years before that one night changed his life, when he was still human.

She straddles him, pushing him firmly against the lounge, as she guides him inside her. Chris groans, but is soon gasping as she runs her long, sharp nails hard against his chest, smiling so he can see her teeth. Inch long fangs, just like his own. They’re beautifully crafted since she had to go to a specialist dentist to have them professionally cast. He knows she loves being like this, in control and powerful. Chris truly finds himself frightened in the moments when her mouth is covered with his blood and she smiles at him as though he really is her dinner. Small, fleeting emotions fire in his heart and belly, reminiscent of those he felt before. Although, it’s like sitting in an aeroplane that can’t fly or a submarine that can’t dive, so close to achieving his desires to feel as he once did, but finding for all his effort he’s missing the mark by the width of a soap bubble’s skin.

Lucia sucks firmly at his neck, and he relishes the feel of his blood draining. It reminds him of how it feels for his clients and helps him make their experience all the more pleasurable. He holds her hips, hissing at the sting as her mouth draws on the wound of his neck. She’s bitten into him several times already, but he heals so quickly that when she comes up for a breath, his skin has healed over.

“God, you taste so good,” she purrs, kissing him so he can taste his own blood. It tastes different to human, muddier and much less appealing, but he finds it fascinating that to humans it actually tastes good.

Her tongue flicks over his teeth; she likes to toy with his fangs. It’s part of her fantasy, that she’s overpowered a Vampire. She likes to bite, but her real kink is haemotolangia, a love of blood. It’s ironic really, given he’s the Vampire and despises the fact that he has to take blood to survive. His other clients are into odaxelagnia, a desire to be bitten.

For a while Lucia tried to pay him for the service as she does her other employees, but Chris has always refused. He prefers to have her bite him as a kind of penance for the fact that he’s bitten others, but there’s no way he’ll take payment.

She comes no less than three times before Chris is allowed to. When she finally relents, she grinds her hips down and squeezes her muscles around him. Chris comes quickly as his body jerks and he partly sits up, clinging to Lucia’s body until his orgasm recedes and he’s left panting.

The bar closes at three and Chris hugs both Freda and Anton before he kisses Lucia good bye. Anton’s still awestruck, but Freda gently pushes him out so Chris can make his way home. In spite of his misgivings, Chris feels refreshed and energised. The blood he’s consumed will be enough to get him through the week until he needs to feed again next Saturday.

 

~~~

 

Zach reaches deep into the moving carton for the last book, when his cell begins buzzing in his pocket. He’s kept it close since, when he’d first arrived Thursday, he’d forgotten where he’d put it. Finally found with a flat battery the next day, he’d received several voicemails from his distraught, angry, pleading, maddened mother, in that order.

“Hey, Joe,” he says since Joe’s photo on the cell indicates his call.

“Zach dude, how’s it going?”

“Not bad, nearly unpacked it all.”

“Told you it wouldn’t be so hard. Did you call Mom back?”

“Yeah, got her Friday, yesterday, I did apologise.”

“Dude, she gave me a caning when she couldn’t get on to you. Almost had me on a plane when you didn’t answer.”

“Oh God, sorry man. I know she’s not exactly happy about this, but -”

“She’ll get over it, she is proud of you, don’t forget that in spite of what she says otherwise.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Gonna miss you baby bro, take care alright?”

“Jesus Joe, you haven’t called me that in years,” says Zach. “And yeah, I’m fine. Perhaps a little nervous but I’m looking forward to it.”

“They’ll love you when you make them billions.”

“Yeah, glad someone’s keeping the faith.”

“You’ll be fine; as if you haven’t proven it ten times over already.”

“Thanks Joe, just not entirely sure I’ve done the right thing.”

“He’ll get over himself too. Once he realises how much of a dick he’s being he’ll come begging, then _you_ get to call the shots. Just be smart.”

“Yeah.” The squeeze on his heart, and the deadness he feels resounds in his voice.

“I didn’t call to bring you down dude, just wanted to make sure you’d made it and well, to get Mom off my back since she’ll ask.”

“Well golly gee, thanks!” says Zach, miffed. “Asshole.”  Joe laughs.

“Hey, you know what I mean, keep in touch okay? Don’t let her go crazy with worry.”

“I won’t, thanks for calling.”

“Take care, Zach.”

“You too, Joe.”

For a moment he wishes Joe were here. He’d make the situation a lot less daunting than how Zach currently feels about it. The abandoned book is finally shelved, and Zach heaves an enormous sigh as he surveys his new studio apartment. Empty packing boxes litter the open plan space, and though it’s unfamiliar, the objects that surround him are giving him comfort. That is, until he thinks of Matt. Joe’s words have brought him to the surface again.

One of the first arguments they’d had replays in his mind, and though he tries to stem the flow, it takes over and he’s recalling every painful word.

“You’ve applied?” said Matt, his voice raised in disbelief. “What on earth possessed you? Did you even consider what it would mean for us?”

The questions had burnt themselves into Zach’s brain as he tried to think what it was that had made him decide to move across to the other side of the country. Surely there had been better-suited candidates, and his mother had been reluctant to share in his brother’s congratulations. She clearly didn’t want her baby boy living so far from home, but it was his older brother Joe who convinced him it was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Leonard Nimoy, Company Director of Wholesale Operations and  Logistics of Pharmaceuticals, WOLPh, had personally invited Zach to apply for the role, had insisted in fact. He and Zach’s father, John Quinto, had been friends for a long time. His mother had described it as a father-son bond, and even though he’d only been seven at the time, Zach remembers seeing how badly Leonard had taken his father’s death. He’d never seen a man cry, but with each tear the old man shed, Zach could see the agony of loss in his face. Maybe even more so than his mother.

“Jesus, Zach, do I mean so damn little to you?” said Matt one night while washing the dishes.

“Of course not,” said Zach. He’d been doing his best to defend his reasons. Joe was right; it was a really good opportunity and a chance to be a part of something great. In his mind he’d envisioned Matt being happy for him, and even being excited to move to a diversely unique city like Los Angeles. “I want you to come too.” Which was a stupid thing to have said really. Had he honestly believed that Matt would just uproot his life and follow after him?

“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being!” was a popular declaration when they tried several times to work out how they would handle being a long distance couple. Even Zach used it once or twice when he considered how Matt was basically telling him that the dream job he’d been offered was bordering on being a deal breaker.

And then it was.

Refusing to even try the long distance thing, Matt told Zach to move out. He’d awkwardly had to stay with his mother before the removalists were due. That hadn’t helped, as she kept up a litany of how far away he’d be, and not to forget his family, and who would help her with taxes.

Zach was actually relieved when he boarded the plane, and at the time felt glad he was leaving Pittsburgh and all her kill-joy residents. Matt didn’t even call to say goodbye or wish him luck, so he sent a simple goodbye text and figured that was that.

It’s early evening, and though he still has a box or two to go, he figures they can wait until tomorrow. That way he can finish unpacking and spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing.

Even so, he boots up his laptop and logs in with the ID and password he’d been sent. _Welcome to WOLPH, Mr Quinto_ , the screen says in a large font, with the company’s logo animated, in the top right corner. It disappears to be replaced by the home screen depicting all the options to the systems he has access to.  As the new General Manager of Finance for the company he still finds he needs to pinch himself that he’s landed such a prestigious job.

Out of habit, he scans the markets, checking to see how the stocks have performed, given he hasn’t had the time to check since Thursday with the whole move. He’s pleased to see they were up slightly before the markets closed Friday night. He opens his new email account and finds it’s already loaded with fifty-four new messages. Even though it’s a Saturday night and he’s in the middle of LA, Zach does what technology has programmed him to do. See a new email, read it. He doesn’t notice that the sun disappears and the stars come out, as he begins digesting the magnitude of information his new employer has sent him.

He finally pulls away from the screen when his eyes are madly stinging, and he has to remove his glasses to rub them. It’s then he sees the package he’d completely forgotten about, delivered earlier that morning from WOLPh. It’s the size of a brief case and when he removes the careful packaging it’s wrapped in that’s exactly what he finds. It’s made of metal and requires a combination to open it. Zach remembers one of his emails that was dated a few days ago making reference to a delivery and a series of numbers needed.

Zach isn’t exactly sure what he expected to find inside, but what he does find is not what he expected. The case is inlaid with thick durable foam encasing a small, but remarkable looking crossbow. Unlike its larger counterparts with their wooden stock and limb, this tiny replica is completely made of metal. Its arrows however, only slightly smaller than a dart, are entirely made of wood, even the sharpened tips have been carefully shaped to form a perfect arrow head. There are ten arrows in all, each encased in foam on either side of the crossbow.

Zach is both in shock and awe of the thing. He didn’t realise it was something he would need. It makes him realise that he’s no longer in Pittsburgh and the threat of the Vampires is very different here than the insignificant threat they are over there. Vampires in Pittsburgh are a rarity, although still in existence. Werewolf numbers are in the majority and so the vermin are kept in check. Los Angeles is a different story. Though the Vampire numbers are declining, they’re still enough of a threat for the Weres to require arms.

He lifts the crossbow out of the case, remembering how his father had shown him one when he was small. He’d been in awe of it then, such an intricate weapon and a favourite of most, if not all Werewolves. He loads one of the arrows, marvelling at how easily it slides and nocks into position. A slight click and it’s loaded.

A black and white cat weaves through his legs and gives a loud meow. Startled, Zach fires the crossbow and the arrow embeds itself into the plaster, just shy of the ceiling.

“Wow,” he breathes, glad that the only damage is a hole in the wall and not shattered glass. Still, the arrow is out of reach, as his ceilings are of considerable height being he’s on the top floor, and this is technically the penthouse of the apartment block.

He carefully puts the crossbow down and bends to scratch the cat’s head and stroke its back. “What’s up, Harold?” he says. The cat meows again, and Zach checks the illuminated digital clock in the kitchen, convinced Harold is just trying to get an early meal. But the clock says 3:35am, and he realises that neither of his pets have been fed. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry guys,” he says, straightening. And then he remembers how he was meant to have bought more food once he’d finished unpacking in the kitchen several hours ago. “Damn,” he says registering his own hunger as he grabs his keys.  There’s little point in getting upset, he has to get food and that’s all there is to it. Surely, LA has a twenty four hour store somewhere! He looks up directions to the nearest store on his phone, and finds one within walking distance. He gives Noah a quick pat, since his dog had clearly given up hope of dinner, unlike Harold, and is taking refuge from the hunger in his bed.

Zach’s breath makes vapour as he walks briskly down the street, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. The nights are only going to get colder as winter descends on the city. It’s early November, and though it tends to be warm enough to stave off the frost, it’s still damn cold.

Even at this early hour, the traffic is still consistent and a few people occupy the sidewalk, marching quickly to escape the chill. Zach’s lived here before, when his father was alive, but they’d been further out in the suburbs, in a house with a yard. He remembers playing ball with his brother, and has vague memories of his mother calling them in from the back step. But after his father’s death she’d packed them up and took them across the country to Pittsburgh. Zach had never been sure why, but having grown up in a city significantly smaller than that of LA, he finds the taller buildings and busier streets just a little intimidating.

Nothing is familiar and he’s unsure of his location in spite of what his phone is telling him. In Pittsburgh, he took it for granted that he could turn down a street, and just know where he was in relation to the city, and his home. Here, he has no such security. It’ll take him a while to get his bearings, to learn where he is and where each street will take him. He turns down a side alley, deep in thought, his eyes on his phone so he doesn’t miss the next corner.

He hears a strange, rhythmic thumping and thinks perhaps there’s a night club near by. The laugh makes him stop, and he looks up to find the alley is very dark. He can make out the dumpsters that line one wall, and what appears to be wooden pallets stacked up against another, but without his Wolf sight, his eyes are no better than the average human. Worse, given he’s worn glasses since fourth grade. The scent he catches is a different aspect altogether, his sense of smell is what differentiates his kind in human form to regular folk. Extremely acute, it doesn’t take Zach long to analyse it, and the instant he does the prickle of goose bumps flushes his skin, as instinct registers the source. Vampire.

He expected to be fearful, or at the very least frightened, but he realises, with the sudden cold that flows down his back and the feeling of his blood draining, that what he’s feeling is actually dread. His first inclination is to scream, and his brain is telling him to scream as loudly as he can, but his voice has not received the message, so he stands there, mute and frozen.

Correspondence between himself and Leonard had given him some idea that the Vampire situation here was different, and Leonard had explained that the population of Rogue Vampires was substantially greater. But Zach had only assumed that by greater, Leonard meant there were one or two more than usual. Zach knew he was coming to a very different way of life when he moved here, he just didn’t realise the scale of that difference. He belatedly realises the meaning behind the crossbow. He’s meant to carry the damn thing with him, like his wallet and keys, just another piece of vital paraphernalia. _You idiot_.

This is a situation that he’s never had to face before. Are there manuals on this? Is there a certain protocol to follow? The streets of Pittsburgh are safe enough to walk along at night. The laugh comes again and he identifies it as female. He takes a deep breath and finds he’s once again able to move. Though he’s had minimal training, he does remember bits and pieces and some of it is coming back.

He tries to gauge her position, his ears analysing the sound to pinpoint her location. Then he realises that the thumping he’s hearing is actually her heartbeat: it’s the Werewolves’ ability to identify and target a Vampire, especially in Wolf form. He turns as something flashes across the alleyway in front of him, and swallows the urge to yell for help. He can’t cry out, much as he’d like to. That would bring people, humans, and he can’t very well expect them to ward off a Vampire, not when that’s technically _his_ job.

“I’m not worth it,” he says, grateful his voice comes out loud and clear.

“Where’s your Pack?” she says. Zach turns again as the sound comes from a different direction. He finds the question odd since Werewolf Packs haven’t been in existence for generations, but as he’s the newbie here, he’s not about to take it for granted that he knows better.

“They’re expecting me any minute,” he says, doing his best not to sound so frightened.

“Really?” she says, again her position has changed, and Zach swings around trying to find her. “You’ve been walking the streets for a while, all by yourself.”

“So are half the people out there,” he says trying to figure out what she’s up to. She can’t have known he was a Were just by looking at him, but clearly she knows.

She’s in his face, eyes staring directly into his own, and he can’t stop the strangled gasp that erupts from him, as his heart almost stops.

“Yes, but I’m not looking out for them.”

“Okay,” he rasps, completely bewildered. Looking out for?

She steps back, tilts her head as though assessing him. “They didn’t tell you?”

“What?” he says, confused. Shouldn’t she be tearing him a new one by now? “Tell me what? They? Who?”

“You were meant to receive an email explaining that you would be assigned an Imus, until you chose one.”

Zach stares at her. “Are you shitting me? You just scared the fucking crap out of me!” But he’s trying to recall every email he’d opened. He’d mainly opened the ones he’d thought were important. He can’t remember one explaining he’d have a bodyguard until further notice. “I don’t think I’ve read that one yet.”

“And here you are in the middle of the night, without your crossbow, walking around a city that has more Rogues than it would like to admit to.”

“How do you know I’m not carrying a crossbow?”

She looks at him sardonically. “You’re not carrying a crossbow.”

Zach looks away; that _was_ a stupid move on his part. “So where does scaring the shit out of me fit in your job description?”

“Made my point, didn’t it?”

“Clearly, but I’m new in town. Is that how Domini train their Imus here?” He can feel the tremor in his voice.

She hesitates, but whatever he’s said has triggered something as she suddenly steps back and bows her head. “Of course not, sir,” she says, clasping her hands in front.

He feels the regret as soon as he sees her reaction; the look in her eyes that he can’t decide is fear or hate. For as long as he can remember, Zach was told that Weres are superior to Vampires. Perhaps more so in his younger years, but that was when his father would take him and his brother to meet with other Weres in an old building known as The Den. He remembers one such gathering where the adults seemed to be quite excited and happy, chatting with each other rather than the heated discussions that would often occur. He’d seen his first Vampires then and couldn’t understand why they were being treated so badly when they didn’t look any different to everyone else in the room. The older Weres were spitting and cursing at them and they just stood there with their heads bowed. When they began fighting, Zach had become frightened as there seemed to be a lot of blood and the sounds of men, even if they were Vampire, hitting and kicking each other made him feel sick. He’d buried his head in his father’s pant leg and wished to go home.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.” He’s never spoken with a Vampire before. Back home the higher ranked Were members relegated how the Vampires were contained and controlled. In fact, after his father’s death, he had very little to do with Vampires, when his mother moved the family to Pittsburgh.

For a moment she doesn’t move, then she lifts her head, her expression sceptical. “What kind of Were are you?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Aren’t you going to report me?”

“For what?”

“Scaring you. I probably took it a bit far, but I wanted to see what you’d do, see what I was dealing with. Not all Weres like a Vampire detail, they think they can handle themselves.”

“Oh, well, I’m not going to report you, though I’m starting to see your point about carrying the crossbow.”

She relaxes a little more then. “Okay, thanks. But you really need to understand that LA’s very different to your little country town.”

“I’m starting to realise that, and Pittsburgh is not a country town,” says Zach.

“It is compared to LA,” she says smiling.

“You’re right,” he says, realizing that Pittsburgh is leagues away from resembling anything like LA. Since he clearly needs her for now so he can at least make his first day of work, he decides she’s better as an ally than an apparent subordinate.  “I need to get pet food. Can you walk with me?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, but her smile hasn’t wavered.

She keeps by his side, and he begins to think that maybe he was lucky she was ordered to tail him. If it’s true that Rogue numbers are enough to warrant carrying around a crossbow, then he should be thanking her. “Thank you, by the way, I obviously need to understand how different it really is here. But if you’ve been sent to babysit me, can I ask your name?”

“Rachel,” she says. “You need to get into the habit of arming yourself at all times, especially at night.”

“Especially at night?” Since when have Vampires been out during the day? But the look in her eye makes him realise he’s not far off. Well shit, if the Vampires here can day-walk, the whole world is screwed.

“It’s extremely rare, but there have been a couple of incidents in the last decade. Vampire sightings when technically they should have been sleeping.”

“Oh.” Decade? Given Vampires are immortal he figures maybe a few would try to day-walk, but the advantage would pale in comparison to the potential danger. In spite of his limited Vampire education Zach is well aware a Vampire will fry the instant they come into contact with direct sunlight.

“It didn’t end well for them, in case you’re wondering,” she says.

“Friends of yours?”

“Hardly,” she says. “I don’t play well with others. Not many of us do.”

“Oh.” His memory of the Vampire fight comes back. Do Vampires see each other as an enemy? He realises he has a lot of catching up to do, and it’s apparent there are a few holes in his education, but he’s not about to interrogate Rachel. He doesn’t need to further amplify his newbie status.

His animals are thrilled to see him, meowing and barking when he comes through the door. Rachel ensured he made it to his apartment block and said she would guarantee he made it through to Tuesday. He finds it a little disconcerting; he doesn’t want to be spied on. And other than it being his first day of work there’s nothing special about Tuesday.

Once Harold and Noah are fed, he warms up his own snack, eats it, then falls into bed completely exhausted. Meeting Rachel was harrowing to say the least, and he’s glad he can finally relax safely ensconced in his new home. The smells are a bit different to the apartment he shared with Matt—damn it, Matt—but he can smell cat and dog, and his clothes in the wardrobe and his toiletries in the bathroom. It won’t be long before it smells familiar and safe, and like home.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris's simple life is disrupted and he's forced to consider his options for the future. Zach is so busy being nervous about his new job that once again he forgets this is LA and not Pittsburgh. And neither of them know it, but they're on a collision course...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: violence and some gore, torture, threatening behaviour and bullying.

Sundays are Chris’s Mondays, but he doesn’t begrudge the day like most nine to fivers tend to do. Chris is one of the few who loves his job, which makes it all the harder when he thinks of leaving it. His colleagues do not favour the night shift at a remote gas station, but his manager, Simon, is happy to let him have his Saturdays off if he takes the rest of the week, because it’s a difficult shift to cover.

Lifting the lid to his pine box, Chris sits up, eyes wide as he wakes. Dressed only in a pair of boxer trunks, he climbs out, whistling the theme to _Star Trek_ while he finds his uniform. With his jeans and shirt over his arm he hauls open the roller door and makes his way to the lunch room near the front of the storage facility that has a convenient little bathroom, complete with shower.

The few Rogues he’s aware of in the city have varying hide outs across LA, but Chris found that a storage locker is the perfect form of accommodation given the rent is cheap at one hundred and thirty dollars a month, and he’s able to hook up his TV and gaming console.

He whistles the _Superman_ theme on his way back, clean and dressed, and tidies up his home before he makes his way to work. He gathers up DVD and game covers, tosses clothes in the hamper for laundry day on Friday, and straightens the cushions on his couch that sits directly in front of an enormous TV. He’s made his home comfortable, but most of all it’s safe.

Choosing a book from one of several in the overstuffed bookcases, he tucks it under his arm, secures the door of his locker and heads towards the exit. The front office is deserted, since the staff, all of whom are oblivious to their unofficial resident, have left long before he’s even awake. It’s accessible 24/7, so he’s able to re-enter by use of a code and his key. Since he’s the only one in possession of the key that opens his locker, he has no concerns that one of the staff might enter unannounced. It’s part of their policy not to, since he’d checked when he’d first applied online. As long as his rent is paid on time, they have no reason to, either.

Under normal circumstances – normal for a Vampire, that is – it would take him around two minutes to reach the gas station, remotely located on Topanga Canyon Boulevard just outside Santa Monica. His Vampire speed can carry him across the city at velocities unfathomable to humans. But to keep himself more inconspicuous, rather than appear like some strange blur, Chris uses the network of pathways no one pays much attention to: the sewer.

He long ago found a pathway that offered minimal exposure to the otherwise less than desirable environment. It’s an old, disused pipeline that was long ago abandoned in favour of the newer replacement. It takes a little longer, but it provides the perfect protection. Chris is able to reach the gas station via the tunnels and ducts and arrive in less time than it would take to drive – if he were allowed a car, that is. Since the Revolution, Werewolves permitted no Vampire to own any possessions of value, let alone hold a job. He doesn’t want to be in the wrong place at the wrong time should he be pulled over by a Were friendly cop or worse, a Were that happens to _be_ a cop. It’s partly why he chose a workplace so far removed from the otherwise Were-dominated city of Los Angeles. The little he has to do with them, the safer he is from being captured.

The Vampires that live in the sewers tend to ignore him as he slips past. Preparing to venture out to feed, they pay him little heed as he tears through the tunnel. Chris remembers when he lived here, like them, a volatile burrow of nasties just waiting for the sun to set. Like deadly spiders hiding in cracks and crevices until the dark lures them out. A few scuffle and fangs are bared because generally they prefer solitude. It’s been a long time since Vampires tolerated each other enough to get organised, and try to make more of their lives than the drab existence of sleeping in a sewer and hunting at night. Chris is thankful he’s been around long enough to know there’s more to life than the next feed.

The gas station is separated from the borders of Santa Monica by scrubland. In fact, it’s surrounded by bush, and overgrown vegetation, where the road leads further into the hilly reserve land. He manages to leave the sewer undetected by a manhole behind the Malibu Feed Bin, a store that sells feed for pets and livestock, or rather, people’s pet horses. Then it’s a quick mile or two further up the road.

The chain link fence enclosing the gas station is more to show where the property ends and the wilderness begins. They hire out trailers and gas cylinders and other equipment for camping. There’s a separate toilet block that Chris hates cleaning, but he’s the only one that does because heaven forbid the day shift should roll their sleeves up, and do something without being told.

“Hey, Chris,” says Simon when Chris enters the shop. He’s tallying up the cash from the register, and doesn’t look up until he’s finished with the fives.

“Si, my man,” says Chris to his manager, “No Brad tonight?”

“Little shit decided to call in sick at the last minute, so I covered his shift.” Chris tosses the book on the counter. Simon gives it a glance then looks back to Chris. “Do me a favour and make sure at the very least the customers are served. I don’t pay you to read.”

“Dude, you don’t pay me, the owner does,” says Chris with a smile. “Besides, other than cleaning the joint, there’s not a lot to do.”

“You could always, I don’t know, stock the shelves, take inventory, and check if anything needs ordering.”

“Then what would I do tomorrow?”

“Shut up,” says Simon, but Chris sees the twitch of a smile. Yeah, he’s got it good.

“Go home, man; I’ll do your takings.”

“Fine,” says Simon, instantly dumping the cash he was about to count back in the till. “Slow day anyway.” He heads straight for the door. “Good night!”

“’Night, Si,” Chris says and starts organising the cash.

He begins by checking the stock and making a list of stuff that’s running low. He then gets the mop and bucket and scrubs the floor clean, making sure he finishes behind the counter so he can read while he waits for it to dry.

The floor is very dry when the bell above the door jangles, rousing Chris from his book which he lays on the counter page side down to mark his place.

Three teenagers wander in making Chris wary. They immediately split up, each heading to a different part of the store. The shelves are stocked with basic essentials for camping like cans of beef and pasta, as well as soap and shampoo. But there’s a locked cabinet of knives for hunters and fishing, and Chris watches the boys carefully as they survey the shop’s offerings.

Two slip out of view, forcing Chris out from behind the counter to check they’re not shoplifting. He realizes not all kids come in to steal stuff, but he can’t help the vibe he’s getting. They’re up to something.

“You’re out late,” he says coming up behind the first kid, who instantly shoves the six-pack of beer onto the closest shelf, holds up his hands and begins backing away. He looks about sixteen or seventeen, and Chris wonders if his parents know he’s out at this time of night.

“I got nothing, man,” says the kid who appears to be made of nothing but bone and sinew. His pants are held by a belt, but it’s clinging to his thighs and showing off his underwear.

Chris eyes the beer. “Buy what your age permits and go home,” says Chris.

“Problem, Liam?” asks one of the others. Chris marks him as the leader of the group; he also appears slightly older as he’s sporting a meagre goatee. He’s stockier too. Not quite Chris’s height, but definitely broader.

“Only this dick spying on me,” says Liam. “Thought you said the place was cool, Jarrod.”

“Shut up,” says Jarrod to Liam, then turns to Chris. “Problem?”

“You boys need to go -”

“Hey, we’re camping and need stuff, what’s your problem?”

“Your friend was holding that,” says Chris, indicating the beer. “Show me some ID. Do your parents know you’re all the way out here?”

“None of your -- hold on,” says Jarrod, taking a moment. He appears to be thinking, but Chris has seen that look before and he knows he’s about to be - “You’re a fucking corpse!” –recognized.

“Watch your mouth,” says Chris pointing his finger. Christ, Weres! But even so, it doesn’t excuse bad manners and _that_ kind of language. He wishes he’d stayed behind the counter, where he would be able to trigger the silent alarm, but he really doesn’t want to turn his back on them.

He knows he’ll have to quit his job now, as there’s no way he can stay given the Weres will soon know where he works. This is the life of a Rogue, forever forced to run and hide. He’s lucky LA’s large enough to hide in, and that he’s managed to stay under the radar. He knew it was probably only a matter of time, and though early, it does fall in conveniently with the rest of his plans. Still, he really did like his job.

“The hell?” says Jarrod looking affronted. The third kid has shown up and Chris sees the pockets of his hoodie are stuffed full.

“Empty your pockets,” he says, his finger moving from Jarrod to the third kid.

“You can’t tell us what to do, corpse.”

“I can when you’re breaking the law. Leave whatever it is you’ve taken, and get out before I call the cops.”

“Go ahead, I reckon my father would enjoy coming here to smash a fucking corpse’s head in.”

“Empty your pockets and get out,” says Chris, louder. Even if the kid isn’t lying, and his father is in fact a cop, and a Were, the last thing Chris wants is to have him join the party. “I don’t want trouble and I don’t think you want it either.”

Jarrod isn’t budging. “What my trouble is, is your lack of respect,” he says, his arms crossing his chest.

Chris can see the belligerence, but it’s nothing new. Often the life lessons these kids receive from their parents in relation to Vampires is one of complete prejudice; that Vampires are the lowest form of life, and should be treated as such. It saddens him that the next generation of Weres will carry on the same practices as those before. He’s seen it over and over again with each generation, and it’s never going to change.

“I mean no disrespect; I just want you to leave.”

“Dylan,” says Jarrod, his eyes still on Chris. “Show the corpse what we consider to be disrespectful.”

The third kid, Dylan, shoves his hand into the shelf loaded with bags of potato chips and proceeds to walk forward, pushing every bag off the shelf. He tramples over them, causing them to burst open, spraying chips over the floor. Liam begins to crush them under his shoes, then takes out the shelf opposite stocked with bottles of ketchup. The bottles explode on the floor, covering Chris’s freshly-washed floor with a terrible mess.

“Stop,” says Chris, stepping forward to grab hold of either one of them.

Jarrod’s punch would have landed squarely in Chris’s stomach had it not suddenly been stopped by something hard and unrelenting.

Chris glares at him, eyes red, but keeps his fangs in check. “If you want my respect, you have to earn it,” he says in a low, threatening voice. Jarrod is still staring at his fist enclosed by Chris’s firm hand. When he finally looks up, Chris can see genuine fear in the kid’s eyes. “Get out.”

The two other boys are frozen where they stand. Chris releases Jarrod, almost daring the kid to try something else. Jarrod’s face is flushed with anger as he slowly walks towards the door. Chris eyes the other two who suddenly find they can move, and hurry after their friend.

It’s not until Jarrod’s at the door that he appears to find his courage again. “You’re fucked, corpse! This place is gonna be crawling with Wolves!”

Chris folds his arms, stares at the kids and then flashes his fangs. It has the effect he was after, as they almost trip over themselves in their effort to get out of the store. It’s likely they’ve never encountered a Vampire before, let alone a Rogue. Weres are generally quite protective of the younger ones.

Once their car has skidded out of the driveway and up the boulevard, Chris goes to see what he’ll need to clean up. He’ll also have to report it by phone; otherwise Simon will go crazy with the lost stock. He’s greeted by a tired voice that instantly comes awake when he explains the situation.

“Have you called the police?” says Simon.

“No, I thought you’d want to be here.”

“Thank God, don’t do anything. I’ll be there soon.”

Chris isn’t surprised Simon doesn’t want the police involved. He’s never met the owner, but he had a feeling the gas station was a means of cover for less-than-legitimate business.

Simon lets him go as soon as he gets there, waving him away during a phone call to the owner. Chris hands over an envelope to his manager who takes it without giving it any notice, jams his rolled-up book into his back pocket, and begins to walk down the street. In the envelope was his resignation. Before Simon arrived Chris had found a clean sheet of paper and had written out the words he’s had to write more times than he’d like to remember. Though he hadn’t been at the gas station for long, about six months, he’d become accustomed to it, and even got along with his colleagues.

That’s what he misses the most between jobs: the interaction with people, with humans. It’s certainly not the money – he has enough of that hidden away. At his age he’s acquired enough to live quite comfortably, but it doesn’t stop the need to feel useful, to have something to do. And perhaps more importantly, have someone to talk to.

He’s still a bit wounded by the encounter with the teenagers, but aside from giving them a damn good scare, they were never in any serious danger. Though obnoxious, there was no chance that Chris would physically harm them. It’s a pact he made with himself eons ago. The memories swim in his mind of a time he’d prefer to forget, and he kicks at a rock, sending it into the scrub, wishing he could do the same with his past.

Dawn is still a few hours away, and Chris decides he doesn’t want to skulk in the sewers, so remains above ground. It’s late and dark and in this area there are few, if any, people. He’s not concerned about the kid’s father, because he’s pretty sure a father, especially if he’s a Were, would not be happy with their child out and driving at this time of night.

The night is clear and cold, and after a few moments of walking in the crisp air he feels the weight gradually lift. Sure, he’s lost yet another job, and a band of teenagers almost got the better of him, but he’s optimistic that he’ll find something else. Maybe it’s Fate telling him it’s time to move on. He’d left his uniform back at the station – it only consisted of a shirt, anyway – preferring to wear the t-shirt he had on underneath.

He passes the exit for Rodeo Grounds Lane, a dirt track that leads further into the bushland. It’s not all that great for camping, as the ground undulates with rocky shelves and is covered in spiny, scrubby bushes in among the few trees that are smothered in vines, but there are a few more adventurous sorts, who prefer to live it rough. Soon he can see the lights for the intersection of the Pacific Highway, and he’s almost at the Malibu Feed Bin when a car, accelerating at a dangerous speed, hurtles up the boulevard.

At first he thinks it’s the teenagers again, but the car, its tires screeching, swerves into the wrong lane before swerving back, then turns up the dirt road without even slowing. Though he had less than a second, he was able to discern two women in the car, both laughing, one driving, the other in the back seat. They looked like twins.

Chris knows it’s not his problem, but concern has him jogging after it when he sees its taillights flicker through the trees before they disappear. Maybe they’re looking for a quiet spot to party, since there’s only dirt roads and woods. At the speed they were going they need to be more careful, and he tries not to listen for the bang of a car hitting a tree, or boulder. He’s relieved there’s nothing, and waits a moment longer before he continues his walk.

He gets as far as the turn off to the highway when he’s stopped by the sound of a scream. With the twins still fresh in his mind, he’s surprised it’s not female, but whoever it came from is in terrible pain. No one else would hear it given the distance, but being Vampire, Chris can hear more acutely. It’s a sound he’s heard before, and one he always hopes never to hear again when he does.

In seconds he’s running along the highway, and shooting up the dirt track where he finds the car: lights still on, and the trunk open.

 But when he looks inside for the two women, the car is empty.

 

~~~

When Zach opens his eyes, the sun has just risen. He rubs a hand over his face thinking he’s only managed a few hours sleep when he realises it’s in the wrong position to be rising. Oh shit, it’s setting – he’s slept through Sunday! He didn’t mean to sleep the whole day, but given he’s hardly rested since the move he’s not really surprised the fatigue finally took over.

There’s still a small amount of unpacking to do, but one thing he really hoped to accomplish was a dry run into WOLPh. He’s still unsure how long it takes to get there, where he can park, and what’s available nearby. He still has to come to terms with the fact that he’s in one of the biggest cities in the world.

He takes a quick shower to wash away the fog of sleep. Though he’s naturally conditioned to sleep at night and work during the day, he’s capable of switching his routine so his waking hours are during the night. It helps that WOLPh enables its employees the flexibility of working whatever hours suit them, rather than regulating to the typical nine to five. During a full moon it’s easier to sleep during the day in the aftermath, and then take a day or two to go back to being awake during the day.

So Zach finishes his unpacking, plays with his animals, does laundry, and eats his lunch just after one in the morning. He hopes the traffic has lulled a bit, and decides perhaps now is as good a time as any to try out his route into work.

The car’s a rental since he flew in from Pittsburgh, and the car he drove back east had been Matt’s, but it’s comfortable and clean if a bit on the old side. He takes Noah’s car seat cover and lets the dog sit in the front with his harness attached to the seat belt. The traffic isn’t much different, but Zach manages to wend his way through the intersections and side streets until the GPS on his phone tells him the Pacific Electric Building is only a couple of blocks ahead.

He drives up to a large garage door, and sees an intercom placed directly at the driver’s side window. There’s complete silence and Zach starts looking for a button to press in case that’s how he can be heard.

“You need to identify yourself sir,” says a clear voice. “Have you been issued a pass?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” says Zach, fumbling for the piece of plastic that had been sent to him in Pittsburgh. “I’m Zachary Quinto.”

“Just put your pass up against the metal plate next to the speaker,” says the voice. Zach does as he’s told. “Yep, that’s it.” And Zach realises he’s also being watched. He had to send a passport photo in when he initially accepted the position and sent back all the paperwork, including his contract. Given WOLPh’s technological advancements he wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’re running some kind of facial recognition program to ensure he is who he says he is. It takes less than a second, and the door begins to rise. “Good morning, Mr Quinto. Just wait one moment so we can finish our scan. Your car space is number three, ground level. When you see the green light you can drive forward. Have a pleasant day.”

“Thank-thank you,” says Zach, looking about for where a green light might suddenly illuminate, but it does so on the intercom panel.  He’s impressed by the security; most corporate car parks in Pittsburgh have a simple boom gate.

He drives into the car space, and is happily surprised to see it has his job title, ‘Head of Finance’ and ‘reserved’ painted on the concrete curb. He checks the time. Not bad for a first time run, but he’s well aware he’s not in peak hour traffic.

He has until Tuesday, his official day to start, so he decides to have another go during the day, but for now he wants to check out LA’s sights, regardless of the fact that it’s three in the morning. His pass lets him back out of the car park and as he turns onto the road the nightlife seems just as alive and kicking as the day. He takes in the glittering signs, flashing lights and throngs of people still out and about even though it’s Sunday night, or rather Monday morning. With Thanksgiving only a few weeks away, the streets and shop fronts are festooned with garlands and glitter.

The GPS is tracking his progress so he doesn’t concern himself with getting lost; it’ll just tell him how to get back home. The industrial estate he gets to seems a lot more deserted, and he sits at the lights a little longer than he should, letting them turn back to red as he considers where to go next.

His car door is suddenly yanked open, and Zach yelps when a strong, firm hand grabs his arm and hauls him out of the car. He’s face to face with a pair of cold eyes, and at first he’s relieved to think its Rachel, but it’s not Rachel, he’s not looking into her eyes. The eyes he’s seeing are bright red. Rachel had ensured his safety, in spite of her initial prank. After that first encounter he’d convinced himself that Vampires weren’t all bad, maybe even misunderstood.

The eyes that have him frozen are threatening and piercing, as a flush of ice spreads over his neck and down his back, before creeping up his scalp when he realizes he’s in serious danger. Definitely not in Pittsburgh anymore.

“Hmm,” says the voice of the woman who holds him. “Yummy.”

“Please,” is all Zach manages to get out, before his voice fails, and he’s finding it difficult to breathe. Rachel certainly frightened him, but her demeanor even as she did so was nothing like this. He can feel the almost primitive desire the woman has to simply feed from him. Rachel still had human attributes, but this woman is looking at him as a lioness views a gazelle.

She slides her nose along his neck and he almost gags when he feels her cold wet tongue sliding along his throat.  _Oh my God, I’m about to die!_

“Get him in the car,” says another female, her voice exactly the same as the first. _Wait, there are two of them?_

She opens the door to the back seat and shoves him in. He bangs his head hard against the other door, and crumples with his hands covering his head. Through the daze Zach sees the second woman, identical to the first, watching him as he cowers on the backseat.

“Oh look, a doggie!” says one. Noah hasn’t stopped barking since the moment the car door was opened.

“Tell your dog to shut the hell up or I’ll eat him.”

Zach, still in shock that he’s not dead yet, manages to comprehend what she’s asking as his sight clears, but his head starts to ache. “It’s all right Noah, hush now boy,” he says although there’s no real command to his words. Even so, Noah seems to realize, and starts up a worried whimper, looking between Zach and the two women. He’s grabbed and dumped into the trunk. Then woman who initially grabbed Zach gets in the back seat next to him while her sister, because they are undeniably twins, gets in the driver’s side. She drives through the intersection without waiting for a green light, heading God only knows where.

 “Be good and we won’t hurt you,” says the one in the back seat. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Shut up, Dee,” says the driver.

“We can use the dog for leverage,” says Dee. “You know, make him obey or else we’ll kill his dog.”

“Just don’t speak to him at all.”

“Or what?” There’s a pause. “Just calm down and relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, Dee.”

“Then stop being all bitchy, Em. We’ve still got time, and he isn’t going anywhere, are you?”

The last part is directed at Zach and he shakes his head. Dee’s looking down at him, her bangs swaying across her eyes. Lying on the back seat, his legs uncomfortably curled up, he can still see Em in the driver’s seat. She’s concentrating on the road, which is a relief, but when she turns back, she catches him staring at her. He sees her eyes are red as well, and he can’t help the nasty shudder that runs through him. He knows it’s the first sign of danger with a Vampire. Red eyes mean they’re hungry and about to feed. Two Vampires, both with red eyes, is not a situation he ever wanted to find himself in. Their hearts aren’t beating in sync, but rather a strange staccato that’s bordering on irritating. The smell of death fills the car; rank decay. He’d smelled it on Rachel, but with two of them in the confined space it’s overpowering.

_Rachel, where the fuck is she?_ He’s unable to take his eyes off the women, and wondering if he’ll ever see his family again.

Em, the Vampire who’s driving, appears to know exactly where she’s taking him because she floors the accelerator and navigates the car through the city. Though he has no idea where they’re going Zach can see the glow of streetlights and the tops of taller buildings, until after a while, the buildings no longer come into view, and Em doesn’t have to slow or stop for traffic lights. Eventually, even the streetlights have ceased, and Zach senses that his life is going to end very soon.

They coast along at a significant speed, which makes Zach think perhaps they’re on a highway. Em yanks the steering wheel suddenly, hauling the car around a corner, causing the tires to screech over the tarmac.

 “Where are you taking me?”

“Someplace secret,” says Dee.

“Shut him up,” says Em and Dee places a finger against her smiling lips. Zach can see her fangs are out, two points of pain-filled death that shine wetly either side of her finger.

Zach can hear Noah whimpering in the trunk space, his claws scraping against the sides. All he can hope for is that they release Noah from the trunk, and let the dog go before they finish _him_ off.

The road suddenly gets bumpy and Zach can hear that they’re no longer on road but dirt.

“Is this safe?” asks Dee. “We were told somewhere secluded. Is this secluded enough?”

“Dee, will you stop talking!” shouts Em. “Christ, you’re telling him everything.”

“Jesus, Em, who’s he going to tell?”

“Just shut up, please.”

They slide to a halt, and no sooner has the car stopped than the twins are out. The one in the back grabs him, hauling him out as though he weighs nothing. Noah starts barking again, but as the other opens the trunk he leaps out and runs out of reach, turning and barking when Zach doesn’t follow.

“Leave it,” says Dee. “What’s he gonna do?”

“Annoy the shit out of me,” says Em.

“Do you have the chain?”

Em hauls a long length of coiled chain from the trunk, and drapes it over her shoulder. Zach shudders when he sees it glinting in the moonlight, all bright and shiny, and undoubtedly made of silver.

“Move,” says Dee, poking him to start walking.

The adrenalin hasn’t stopped pumping though him, and in his fear all sorts of ideas race through Zach’s mind. Could he outrun them? No. Could he make it to the car? No, what about Noah? The loyal dog is following meekly, as though he knows that to cause any further trouble could cause his master harm.

Zach knows they have the ability to kill him, and that it’s quite likely their intention. He suddenly thinks about his family back home. Perhaps coming here had been a bad idea after all. If he’d let it go, he’d be waking up with Matt beside him, happy and warm and safe. Instead he’s out in the woods, freezing his balls off until these Vampire bitches decide to suck him dry.

He begins to think about who will avenge him. Would anyone from WOLPh avenge him? Would Joe have to come out and have his vengeance on these two? He remembers an incident, just before his father’s death when a friend of the family had come in all flustered and angry. Someone had been attacked by a Vampire, and from what Zach could make out they weren’t sure if he would live. Zach remembers how his father had organised a search party, and they went out to hunt down the Vampire when the next full moon rose. Weres are vengeful creatures, eye for an eye and all that shit. He can’t remember if the Vampire was found, or perhaps he was never told. And he never learned what happened to the Were who’d been attacked, but a few weeks later John Quinto died. No one told Zach how that happened either.

As a child he thought it was unfair that Weres could only change during a full moon. Then, when he was old enough to morph, the monthly change became annoying as he quickly learned he was powerless to stop it. Now he wishes again that he could change at will.

They leave the road and head into the woods. They get about a hundred yards when he’s told to stop.

“This will do, get undressed.”

“What?” says Zach.

“Get undressed,” says Em.

Zach takes one look at Noah and begins to strip. He can’t help shaking as he fiddles with belt buckle and fly. The night is exceptionally chilly, as he hauls off his underwear and shivers slightly. He thinks he should be more self conscious, but he can’t concentrate on anything other than his racing heart, and the will to keep living.

He swallows hard when Em comes up to him, loosening the chain, which she then begins to wrap around his neck. The instant it touches his skin there’s a nasty sound of sizzling, and Zach hisses as his skin shrivels under the metal. Gasping and grunting, he does his best to keep his cries in check as she winds it around his torso, and then binds his hands and ankles. She gives him a shove, and he falls back, landing hard on the ground. Gravel and spiky grass graze his unprotected skin. He yelps as his body bruises and scrapes against the harsh ground. Sticks and dry leaves poke and prod his back and legs.

Several yards away, Noah starts up again.

“Shut the dog up, or I’ll have him for fucking dessert.”

“Noah,” says Zach, his voice sounding strained. “It’s okay, boy.” He tries to look up and locate his dog, which forces the chain hard up against his throat and jaw. In spite of the added pain he can see Noah lies down, his eyes never leaving his master. Zach flops back, hoping Noah will stay still and quiet.

“Can I please have a thigh?” asks Dee. “The blood tastes so much better at the thigh.”

“Fine,” says Em. “I prefer the neck anyway. If you get them right in here,” she says pointing just under her jawbone in demonstration, “the blood pours out.”

Zach can just about feel his heart thundering against his ribs. His breath comes in shallow gasps, as they position themselves over his prone form. Red eyes glinting in the moonlight, they open their mouths and let him watch their fangs lengthen into long, lethal lancets.

Having never been threatened or had pain purposely inflicted on him, Zach watches in horror as they suddenly bend over him, their fangs sinking into his flesh. It hits like a searing heat, when their teeth drive into his skin. Though he tries to hold himself together, and keep from reacting, he just can’t stop the build up in his throat, and he lets out a dire scream.

 

~~~

 

Strangled sounds of pain can be heard further in the woods. Chris runs at Vampire speed, coming to an abrupt stop when he sees a man being tortured, well, eaten, by two Vampires. He’s intrigued to see a couple of Rogues working together, especially over the one guy, but as he carefully approaches he sees they’re the two women he’d seen in the car.

The area they’ve chosen to feed in is rocky, the ground covered in gravel and short stumpy tufts of grass. The shrubs, though tall, are twiggy and the trees that grow between the bushes are covered in climbing vines. Several boulders stand like guards, overlooking the proceedings as the man writhes in agony.

Chris immediately slows his steps, walks carefully on feet that make no noise, and maneuvers himself towards the feasting Vampires like a cat stalking prey. Crouched over their victim as they are, he can see they’re athletic, wiry and probably quite strong, regardless of the fact that they’re female. Chris learned long ago not to underestimate the power of a woman. As humans it’s a fact that most men are physically stronger than women. As Vampires, the only thing that determines a Vampire’s power is their age. Chris has quite a number of years under his belt, and though he doesn’t know how old the pair in front of him are, he’s still cautious.

The man lets out another shriek, and Chris uses the sound to leap forward, grab the closest Vampire by the scruff of her neck and haul her off, tossing her over his shoulder as though throwing away an empty tin can. The second looks up from her meal, glares at him with her wild red eyes, and hisses nastily from a mouth that’s dripping blood.

“Who the fuck are you?” she screeches, crouching over the man possessively.

Chris can hear the Vampire he threw screaming and cursing, as she disentangles herself from whatever plant life she happened to fall into. The man is wrapped tightly in a long silver chain, contusions and open lesions following his bindings all along his body. Two horrible wounds, openly bleeding, are on his thigh and neck.

“Caught a Were, have we?” he says realising the stakes have changed. Regardless of how old she is, a Vampire that’s consumed Were blood is a great deal stronger. It was only his surprise tactic that enabled him to detach the first female, otherwise she would have worn him like a coat.

“He’s ours,” she snarls.

At this moment, the other sister has managed to free herself and comes flying at him, screaming in anger. Chris is ready for her, bending his knees to take the brunt of her, when she collides into him, her fists flying. They go over, but Chris angles himself, catches his feet into her middle, and flips her off with the momentum of the fall when they hit the ground. He uses his back muscles and a forceful jerk to get himself back on his feet without having to use his hands. Stronger she may be, but a fighter she certainly isn’t.

Screeching like a wounded cat she flails in the bushes, trying to get up, as climbing plants and vines tangle around her. Chris turns to the other twin and can see she’s worried she’s about to lose her meal. But she’s not as hot headed as her twin and carefully stands, knees bent before she steps over the man to confront Chris.

“Are you okay, Em?” she says, keeping her eyes on Chris.

“What do _you_ think, Dee?” comes the reply. “My hair and clothes are stuck on these fucking branches and shit.”

 “Dee, is it?” says Chris. Her eyes narrow and she’s still stepping towards him, but he can see she’s trying to get to her sister rather than him. “How about you go help your sister and I’ll deal with this guy.”

She stops suddenly, her focus changed. “Didn’t you hear me? He belongs to us.”

Chris almost laughs. “I believe a few of us belong to them.”

“What concern is it of yours? If we kill off a Were, that’s one less threat during a full moon.”

“And what about the threat from his Pack?” says Chris seriously. “You don’t think he’ll be missed? The cops will find his car and once it’s established what he is, his Pack will get involved and the both of you will be hunted until they get their revenge. Is that what you want?” Formal Were Packs aren’t common anymore, but most Vampires still use the term to indicate a Were’s friends and family. And Weres have certainly maintained their vengeful ideals. Chris has even come across allegiances, fundamentalist groups that take the Pack notion extremely seriously. From the looks on their faces, these Vampires have as well.

Dee falters, her guard dropping just a little. “No, but I don’t have a choice. Em said we -”

“For the last time Dee, shut the fuck up!” says Em, suddenly arriving back from her altercation with the vegetation. She’s still pulling leaves and twigs from her hair and clothes, but the scratches heal immediately. “Get out of here,” she says to Chris. “This is none of your business, and he’s not your concern.”

Chris knows she’s right; the Were isn’t his concern, but the screams and cries have touched a place in his mind that won’t let him simply walk away. It’s too close, in spite of being completely adverse circumstances, and he knows that if he left them to it, he’d just be adding further regret to the pile that already weighs on his heart.

The chance to save someone, someone helpless and facing death, is an opportunity Chris had always wished he’d taken. Regardless of who or even why, he finds himself trying to replay the memory in the hopes that his actions will somehow erase the devastating result of that night with Patrick.

Patrick was nineteen when he was turned, but he had a good fifty years to Chris’s twelve months. Being so new and unsure, Chris had taken Patrick’s offer of friendship and the two soon formed a strong bond. They were together for almost two centuries before Patrick joined the revolution, when Vampires across the country were united to fight the oppression of Werewolves.

Chris never stopped blaming himself, replayed the scene over and over until the one chance for him to help and change Patrick’s fate came and went like a snuffed candle.

“Last chance,” he says. “Leave him or I will simply take him.”

The twins look at each other and laugh uproariously. The one called Dee keeps laughing, but her sister stops and launches herself at Chris. He manages to sweep her targeted fist aside, slamming it into a large rock that shatters the surface sending bits of debris and dust flying. Unfazed but angered, she pulls back again, and Chris carefully watches her feet, determining how she’ll position herself for the next attack. But it’s Dee that catches him off guard, as his head whips back from the force of her well-aimed foot that whacks him in the cheek.

Surprised, he berates himself for the obvious miscalculation, and reminds himself there are two assailants. He brings himself back with a quick shake of the head, but only in time to see the enormous boulder come flying at him, impacting his chest, and carrying him for several yards before both he and it land heavily.

Chris groans, as his shattered body attempts to heal itself under the weight of the giant rock. He opens his eyes, blinking back dust when he looks over, and sees the twins crouched over the man again. He’s impressed that Em realised she was stronger from the Were blood. It’ll take him time to heal, and get out from under the boulder.

The man is crying out, moaning in pain as the twins feast on him. Chris knows he doesn’t have much time left before they drain the guy completely and he’ll be left to rescue a cadaver. He manages to get his arms under the base of the rock, and as his chest finishes healing he’s able to lever it, pushing it slightly until he gets a better handle on it. Bending his arms, palms pressed to the rough surface, Chris grimaces, feels the weight and focuses his energy on pushing. A little further and the rest of his torso has healed, enabling him to shift his legs, knees bent. With a noise from the back of his throat he pushes the boulder off, letting it come to rest just behind him. His clothes are filthy with dirt, dust and his blood, but he’s free. Free and pissed.

Their heads are bent over the Were’s body, and Chris doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs the head of the closest one and with a quick, sharp twist breaks her neck. She immediately sags, her lifeless body falling away from the Were.

Em sees her sister collapse, and her angry glare is suddenly focussed on him. She launches herself from her crouched position, a yell of fury erupting from her bloodied mouth. Chris ducks, and flips out of the way of her clutching hands as he hooks his ankles around her neck. With a practiced twist he takes her over, satisfied when the loud crack of her neck runs along his legs. He lands in a crouch and she as a heap of limbs, her head lolling to one side. 

He knows he doesn’t have much time. The twins are already healing themselves as their bodies move in all kinds of weird jerking spasms, their spinal cords attempting to reconnect. He scoops them up, laying them side by side so they’ll be together when they wake. They’ll have recovered by the time the sun rises, so he isn’t concerned that he’s left them to fry.

The man has stopped making terrible sounds, and when Chris looks over to him he sees a large shaggy grey dog lying at his head, sniffing tentatively into the man’s hair. It doesn’t look good.

During the fight, his book fell out of his back pocket; he dusts it off by slapping it against his leg then crams it back in. He blows out a puff of air before he slowly walks over to the man, thinking the worst has actually happened. The dog begins to growl, baring his teeth.

He pushes two fingers against the unbloodied side of the man’s neck, and feels a tiny fluttering rhythm. Relieved, he shifts to the man’s feet since the dog is at his head. “Easy boy, I’m just going to take the chain off, okay?”  Carefully unwinding the chain, Chris tries to ensure the metal doesn’t come into contact again with the injured Were’s skin. His body is long and lanky with dark hair covering his arms, legs and chest. Chris sees a defined nose, clean-shaven chin and firm jaw. He’s handsome in spite of being Were, and Chris can’t help but think how hot he’d look if his face weren’t contorted in pain.

When he reaches the guy’s torso the dog seems to understand Chris is trying to help, and stands up to sniff at his hands. He lets Chris give him a pat, and a bit of a scratch behind the ears, before Chris resumes his work to remove the chain.

The man seems to visibly relax once the chain is gone, but his body is still a mass of snaking lesions and open welts. The wounds from the twins’ bites are still bleeding, awful ragged wounds that Chris knows would have been dreadfully painful. He wonders if the Were will have any memory of the night, or if the twins had been at him long enough for the narcotic in their saliva to take effect. _If fangs stay embedded, the narcotic enters the blood stream._ It’s as though he can hear Patrick’s voice, as he remembers the lesson.

“Okay, let’s do this,” says Chris, letting his fangs lengthen. He bites into his wrist, closing his eyes a moment as he deals with the pain of it. Before it has a chance to heal he places it over the Were’s mouth. “If you can hear me, I need you to drink.”

Slowly, the man’s lips close over the puncture, and Chris can feel him begin to suck. He knows, since the man’s a Were, that his saliva will stop the bite from healing too quickly. Holding the guy’s head up to make it easier, Chris watches as the Were heals. As he ingests Chris’s blood his body closes the wounds and heals up the skin, covering over open sores, and causing the swelling and inflammation to recede. Even the bite marks disappear, and Chris is relieved they haven’t left a scar.

Once healed, Chris lifts away his wrist, hoping the man will be okay. The man groans, his eyes moving back and forth behind the lids, as he tries to wake. The dog starts to bark, licking at the Were’s face, and snuffling into his hair.

“Quiet, Noah, you’ll wake Matt,” he mumbles and suddenly opens his eyes.

“Hey,” says Chris.

At first he appears to register Chris with a kind of appraising look one gives when admiring a stunning portrait. But the guy’s eyes widen, and he’s suddenly trying to get up. Chris realizes he hadn’t retracted his fangs. “Oh God, I’m sorry. See?” he says smiling, and showing the elongated teeth are gone. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” says the guy, and this time he does manage to pull away. Chris straightens and steps back, giving the Were space so he can stand, albeit a little woozily. He clutches his head and takes several wobbly steps before he stops. “Jesus, where am I?” he says taking in his surroundings.

“Topanga National Reserve,” says Chris. “Seems you were kidnapped by a couple of Vampires.”

The man turns, stares at Chris. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Chris, um, sir. Chris Pine. I found them, well, eating you and stopped them.” He indicates the two bodies, still jerking grotesquely on the ground.

“Should I be thanking you? Where the hell was Rachel?”

Chris thinks maybe the guy’s still a bit out of it. The lack of strength from the chain, along with blood loss can’t be helping, and then to have a big dose of Vampire blood would knock anyone around, including a Werewolf.

“I don’t remember a Rachel,” he says. “But your car’s back there. Can I take you home, sir?”

“Can you what?”

“Take you home. Or a hospital, if you’d like, you’ve had a bit of an ordeal here.”

“No shit.” The guy seems to be looking around. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

“Oh,” says Chris. “I did see them, sir, um, over here.” He grabs up the pile, and takes a careful step towards the man, dropping them before he steps back again.

“I’ve been in this town a whole five minutes and I’ve been assaulted by your kind twice already!”

“I’m sorry?” says Chris. He feels for the guy, he’s clearly having a bad day. “I’m not trying to hurt you, sir. We’re not all bad.”

“Not all bad? That’s one out of four,” says the guy, glaring at Chris with frightening intensity. He’s seen that look before; this is one pissed Wolf. “No offense to your whole Good Samaritan deal here, but I really don’t like those odds.” He jams his feet back into his shoes then appears to be looking about him. “At least I still have my dog,” he seems to say to no one in particular. “Let’s go, Noah.” He signals to the dog, and begins a rather precarious walk in the opposite direction to his abandoned car.

“Sir,” says Chris, stepping forward a little to get his attention. “Your car’s that way, and I really don’t think you should be driving, if you don’t mind my saying.”

The guy trips suddenly and falls, rather ungracefully. Chris is there in an instant, holding him before his face actually hits the ground.

“Holy shit,” says the guy. Chris pulls him up with no effort, and holds him a moment longer to help steady him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but it would be irresponsible of me to let you drive,” says Chris. “I’m not like the others; I’m not going to hurt you. I fixed you, for crying out loud.”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’, please,” says the man as he tries to get his long slender legs to work. “It’s Zach.”

“Fine, Zach, if you prefer. Now let me get you to a hospital.”

“No, just take me home. Rachel’s probably going crazy thinking she’s lost me and I’ll inform her Dominus. Where’s yours?”

Chris hesitates. “I don’t have one.”

“You _are_ like them,” says Zach suddenly trying to lurch away from Chris. The movement unbalances him, and he’s about to go over again, but Chris grabs his shirt and hauls him back up. Zach slams into his chest and they’re suddenly eye to eye, up close, their noses barely an inch apart.

Chris is momentarily lost in the fathomless depths of Zach’s incredible eyes. Locked in a gaze that is both penetrating and mesmerising, the Vampire finds he’s holding his breath.

“Sorry,” he says, quickly letting Zach’s shirt go. The Were seems to be shaking off the same feeling as he blinks several times, and does his best to look elsewhere. “I’d better get you home.”

He helps Zach into the car and puts Noah in the back with his harness. After rescuing his master, Noah has taken a shine to Chris, sniffing at his hands and trying to lick at his face whenever it gets close enough.

“His name’s Noah?” asks Chris when he gets in the driver’s seat.

“Yes,” says Zach. “Thank God those evil bitches didn’t hurt him.” On hearing his name Noah strains at his harness and manages to get his head between the two front seats. Zach immediately starts patting and scratching him.

Chris feels the clench in his stomach as more memories flood through his mind. He’d had a dog once, before he was turned, and he remembers how loving and loyal Jasper had been. He’d dearly love to have another, but he can’t justify forcing an animal to live during the night when it technically lives in the day. Jasper’s memory threatens to bring more of his past to the forefront. Chris forces himself to the present, refusing to be swallowed up by his past horrors.

He starts the car and carefully swings it around so he can drive back out to the highway. They drive in silence for a while since Chris can see Zach is deep in thought. He can understand how confronting it must have been to be taken and tortured by Vampires. He has little doubt that Zach won’t be trusting Vampires any time soon, even though he’s letting one drive him home.

 “So you’re Vampire,” says Zach when they reach civilization.

“Last time I checked,” says Chris.

“I can’t believe I’ve been in this city for four days and I’ve already had the shit scared out of me _and_ nearly been dinner.”

“Sounds like a case of poor timing.”

“I’m actually beginning to regret moving out here.”

“Where’re you from?”

“Pittsburgh.”

“Wow, you’re a long way from home.”

“That’s what my mom said.”

Chris sees Zach looking out at the city as he drives them to the inner CBD. He knows the street that Zach lives on when he’d told him. There are still a couple of hours before dawn, so he’s keeping to the limits and making sure he obeys all the road signs. In spite of not having a car for several years, Chris has a license. He’d love to own a car, but for now he’s just happy to, once again, be driving one, even if it is just a shitty rental.

“We’re not all like that, you know,” he says, considering Zach’s initiation into LA’s Vampire underbelly. “Some of us just want to stay away and keep out of trouble. The Wolves catch the reckless on the full moon, but the rest of us just want to be left alone.”

“Sorry to say, Chris, but since I’ve been in fear for my life since I pretty much touched down, I can’t see why your species should be spared.”

“I guess not, but like I said, not all Vampires think along the same wavelength. There are those of us who would just like to live a normal life.”

“A normal life,” says Zach. “You guys live forever. In what way is that normal?”

“Touché,” says Chris. “Although I know for a fact that your genetic makeup means you’ll live a hell of a lot longer than your average Joe.”

“Joe’s anything but average.”

“Exactly.”

“He’s my brother, he’s back in Pittsburgh.”

“Oh,” says Chris. Zach obviously misses him. It borders on a memory of his own that he refuses to give light to. “Younger or older?”

“Older.”

“And Matt?”

Zach stares at him suddenly. Chris isn’t sure why, but he’s managed to make Zach even more upset. “How do you know about Matt?”

“You, uh, mentioned him when you were coming around,” says Chris jerking his thumb in the direction behind them.

“He’s my ex,” says Zach, settling back in his seat.

“Uh huh, sorry man, I didn’t mean to -”

“Forget it,” says Zach with a wave of his hand. “You seriously know where you’re going?”

Chris smiles, “I’ve lived here for a while now, so yeah, I know. South Flower Street. I’ll get you there.”

Zach shows Chris the driveway to pull into and guides him to his designated car space under the building. Chris plans to see him to the elevator, and make his own way home, but when Zach tries to get out of the car he stumbles and almost falls. Chris is at his side in a flash and he can see the look of surprise on Zach’s face.

“Vampire speed,” says Zach. “I’ve still got to get used to that.”

“You didn’t have much to do with Vampires back in Pittsburgh?”

“No, not many of them around. Well, there are a few, but there’s a large Were community, so it keeps them under control.”

“Of course,” says Chris, not meaning to sound sarcastic. He slings Zach’s arm over his shoulder.

“Jesus, you’re cold,” says Zach, shifting against Chris’s body.

“You didn’t notice when I helped you to the car before?”

“Hey man, I was buck naked in the middle of freaking November. Even if this _is_ California, I was probably as cold as you.”

“Good point.”

Zach’s still unsure of his footing. They get into an elevator and Chris keeps hold of him, almost finding the Were’s warmth a comfort.

“Oh wow, this is your place?” he says when Zach manages to open the door. Chris drinks in the opulence of the apartment, marvelling at the amount of space. So used to his little locker, Chris often forgets that everyone else can live in normal sorts of homes. There are a few boxes on the floor, but it looks as though Zach’s pretty much moved in. There’s a large bed, modern sofa in front of an enormous TV and a small but adequate galley kitchen. Chris figures Zach likes white since that seems to be the colour theme happening throughout. The pictures on the walls are an array of photos and prints, but there’s a collection of mounted coins and a piece of abstract art that amazingly goes with the white theme too.

He helps Zach to the sofa and carefully lowers him onto it. “Yeah, found it online when I was offered the job. I’ve never lived in an apartment on my own before.”

“Can I get you anything? Oh, hello,” says Chris, kneeling when a black cat suddenly appears at his feet. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Harold, and I’ve never seen him come up to a complete stranger like that.”

“I’m a regular Doctor Doolittle,” says Chris, scratching Harold under the chin. He can feel the cat purring, and it’s loud enough to wake the dead.

Zach heaves a sigh and slouches against the sofa. “Thank fuck,” he breathes. “Now I just have to make it through the rest of my life.”

“Speaking of life and death and shit, I really have to go. It’s nearly dawn.”

“Yes, of course,” says Zach as he’s about to try and stand.

“No, don’t,” says Chris putting out a hand. “Just sit and regain your strength. I would suggest bed, but since I’m neither your doctor, nor your mother, I’ll leave that up to you. Stay safe man, okay?”

“Yeah,” says Zach. “You too, and thanks again.”

Chris decides to take the risk and stays above ground to get home. By using the smaller side streets and staying off the major ones, he’s less likely to be noticed.

Dawn radiates across the city soon after he’s safely locked the door to his locker. He gets undressed and climbs into his box, lifting the lid over himself so he’s safely secured inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach learns how Vampire blood affects Werewolves in ways he never expected. His first day of work is full of surprises, but he seems to have a lot more questions than answers. Are Werewolves really the ethical saviors he's always thought they were?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: violence; classist and privileged behaviors.

Zach is beginning to wonder how much blood the Vampire gave him. He feels sluggish; his limbs are heavy, and his eyes threaten to tip him into darkness. He only vaguely remembers how a Vampire’s blood can do more to a Were than just heal.

He shivers, and the tremble vibrates down his spine so strongly his entire body shakes with it. Goose bumps flush over his arms and shoulders and he can feel them creeping up his neck and into his hair. It makes him sigh, sinking into the seat further. It feels surprisingly good.

His lazy eyes manage to focus on the most beautiful face he’s ever seen. It doesn’t even worry him that it’s a Vampire and the creature is gazing at him intently. He can’t look away and is perfectly happy to sit and stare at the incredible view.

“Chris,” he manages to say, and with desperate concentration lifts his hand, hoping to touch the creature’s cheek. The Vampire’s eyes follow his fingers, watching as they slowly reach forward before he looks back at Zach. “Oh, God,” Zach says when he touches icy skin. Somewhere deep down he knows he should be terrified, but as his finger tips travel over jaw and cheek he also thinks that this is wrong. He shouldn’t want to find out how this creature feels and tastes, or the noises he might make. 

Chris moves further forward, his eyes engulfing Zach’s vision. His irises are so close Zach can see the strands of color zigzagging around the pupil like threads of electricity, or the light emitted from a galaxy as it’s ultimately sucked into a black hole. His hand slips back down Chris’s jaw until he traces a line across the Vampire’s bottom lip. Chris blinks once, twice, and then his cold mouth is covering Zach’s.

Zach feels the weight on his body alleviate and he’s able to function and move. He grabs Chris, pulling him closer and taking possession of his willing lips. Opening his mouth, Zach tastes the cold but plunges his tongue past the Vampire's teeth. Chris’s waist pushes between Zach’s legs and he opens them wide so he can feel more of the Vampire’s body against him.

He keeps telling himself this can’t be possible or even real. He should be trying to get as far away as possible from this creature. Zach can feel how hard he is when Chris presses his hips into him. Chilly fingers delve into his hair and slide along his neck and the goose bumps return, racing down his spine until his pelvis jerks with a sudden burst of desire. He drags up Chris’s shirt, his hands yearning for the cool expanse of skin. He wants to warm him, cover him all over with himself until Chris is just as warm. Zach seeks out new chilled flesh, happy that it’s still freezing before his warm hands give it heat.

When Chris’s hand rubs over the bulge in his jeans, Zach bucks off the sofa, pulling away from the kiss, but Chris squeezes firmly. Zach groans.

“Mm,” he sighs and reaches for the waistband of Chris’s jeans.

He doesn’t remember getting undressed, but he’s naked now, relishing the feel of Chris against every part of him. With a hooded gaze, Chris slides down onto his knees, taking up Zach’s heavy cock in a firm fist. He looks at Zach before he gently, and with exaggerated control, touches the end with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” Zach says with a shudder. Chris gives the head a full lap with the flat of his tongue running over the sensitive underside then around the entire head. “Mm, yeah.”

Zach clutches Chris’s hair when the Vampire engulfs him fully in a single swallow. “Oh, God,” he yelps, as his cock plunges into the cold confines of Chris’s mouth. But it’s taking every ounce of strength he has not to jam the Vampire’s head down further. Chris pulls up, leaving Zach’s dick coated in saliva, and stroking him in a cool, tight fist.

Chris hasn’t stopped watching him; those penetrating eyes have never looked away, merely blinked on occasion. Trapped as he is by them, Zach doesn’t want to hinder the view. He’s never seen anything so terrifyingly beautiful.

He comes suddenly and hard, deep in the Vampire’s throat, his hands either side of Chris’s head as the Vampire sucks and licks him clean. The sluggish feeling returns as his body continues to permeate with pleasure, the ripples of his orgasm radiating in his afterglow. His hands flop to his sides but before sleep takes hold, Chris is there, in his face, his mouth settling over his firmly before the kiss strengthens. Zach has trouble identifying the taste. It’s soft and subtle and strangely familiar. He’d been expecting it to taste like his own come.

When he shuts his eyes his mind closes in on him and he feels like he’s falling. He can’t feel Chris’s kiss anymore and just when he thinks he’s about to hit bottom he jerks awake.

“Jesus, fuck,” he says swiping a hand over his face. “Goddamn.” He blinks several times as the fog dissipates and sees he’s sitting on the sofa. He shivers; it’s cold, but the temperature hasn’t dampened his still-hard erection. His underwear is sticky, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s come since arriving in LA. First time, and he was passed out for it.

Chris’s face is still vivid in his mind and he shivers again, standing so he can deal with his aching cock in a nice warm shower. “Goddamn,” he says again, unable to shake the way Chris was looking at him, how he felt and the way he -- no, time for a shower, think about it in the shower.

His head feels much clearer by the time he’s dried and dressed and has his first coffee of the day. He’s back in full control of his body, and even the aches he accrued with the move and the fatigue are completely gone. He knows it’s crazy, and almost clichéd, but he feels as though he could run a marathon. Though he knows what happened to him should qualify as psychological and physical trauma, the memories of the attack are blurred, and he has trouble recalling exact details. It’s like a heavy rain cloud on the horizon. He knows it’s there and knows it’s bad, but he can’t see the rain or lightning strikes. Zach’s amazed he feels so calm. In fact, he’s more pissed off than upset; a simmering anger deep inside that he puts down to his Werewolf instinct. It’s a new feeling, and he isn’t even remotely distressed. He wants revenge and the opportunity to fight back. He realizes the experience has helped him understand his own species a little more.

It occurs to him that the event should probably be reported to someone. Would his employers expect him to detail what had happened, give a formal summation? And where was Rachel? He doesn’t have any way of contacting her, since she made it pretty clear that she would be hanging around anyway. True, he had been driving, so perhaps he’d been a little harder to trace. He’s beginning to understand how close he was to losing his life when he considers what saved him.

A Vampire.

A Vampire called Chris Pine. Zach wants to despise him as much as the others, but how, when he was polite and considerate, and even made sure Zach got home safely? Does that mean he’ll have to move now? Should he consider Chris a threat now he knows where a Werewolf lives?

But he recalls blue eyes and how completely enraptured he’d been by them. They hadn’t been red, but Zach wonders if that would have mattered, considering how much liked what he saw.

“Shame,” he says to himself. Regardless of how insane the idea would be, even after that crazy dream – wanting to see him again, a creature whose sole purpose is to kill – Zach can’t help but feel disappointment. Of all the guys in a city this huge, he has to harbor designs on one he can never have. And, he reminds himself, shouldn’t want.

He knows he needs to report the attack, but he has no idea who he should tell and whether they’ll expect him to remember every detail. Will they ask about Chris? Undecided, he finishes the last of his unpacking and organizes himself for the next morning. By the time he’s satisfied it’s ten pm, and in spite of the early hour he slides between his sheets ready to begin his new job the next day.

When he wakes the next morning he’s annoyed that he immediately misses Matt’s presence in the bed, but refuses to give the thought life, snuffing it out as he steps into a hot shower. He’s nervous and excited and looking forward to the new beginning. He can’t help but hope that the twin Vampires were caught in the sun before they’d fully healed. He wonders if the Weres that work at WOLPh have suffered at the hands of Vampires, but then considers how Vampires have suffered under Weres. There were a few tortures he witnessed as a child, and he also heard a multitude of stories from his father.

He gives Noah a quick walk outside, and feeds both the animals and himself before he heads for the car. But when he sits in the driver’s seat, he immediately gets up again. There’s a book lying on it.

It’s a paperback. _Sam Shepard: Seven Plays_. The pages are dog-eared and the edges are yellowing. He’s never seen it before and flips through it, finding writing in all the margins, and passages of text that have been underlined. The first page has the owner’s name and cell number in the same hand writing as the rest of the book. It belongs to Chris Pine. He tosses it onto the passenger seat, his mind filling with the blood-induced images of Sunday night.

The traffic is terrible, and it takes Zach twice as long as his initial run.

“Good morning Mr Quinto, have a pleasant day,” says the same voice at the entrance to the parking lot, and Zach wonders if the guy actually sleeps at WOLPh.

There are many more cars now than when he was here Sunday night, but his space is clear. He pulls in beside an amazing, and very expensive looking, black Mercedes.

“I’ve really gotta go car shopping,” he says to himself, admiring the car as he walks past. The plates say BITE ME, giving Zach the impression that the owner is either really cocky, or a complete dick.

He takes the elevator to an open foyer that spans the entire length of the building. It’s decorated with black granite floors and pearl white walls. Several large canvases of renaissance art are hung above small carpeted areas that hold two or three lavish-looking armchairs. Great plants grow out of elaborate pots, each in flower. It takes Zach a moment to realize they’re real.

The reception desk itself is a huge length of polished wood. Zach jiggles his pass between his fingers as he strides over to it. A woman in a beautifully cut suit invites him forward with a smile.

“How may I help you, sir?” she asks.

“My name’s Zachary Quinto, I’m the new General Manager of Finance. I was given instructions to meet Leonard Nimoy.”

Her smile never wavers as she places the call, and then directs Zach to a seat to wait. Zach hasn’t seen Leonard since he was seven, but even after all the years that have passed since then, he can’t mistake the elderly gentleman walking towards him. Perhaps he should tell Leonard about the attack.

“Zach,” announces Leonard, ignoring Zach’s offered hand as he engulfs him in an all-encompassing embrace. His arms squeeze at Zach’s shoulders and Zach can’t help feeling a little awkward, as he clutches his satchel in one hand and pats Leonard’s back with the other. Leonard finally pulls away and Zach sees the looks they’re getting from the people milling around the foyer. “It’s been far too long my boy, how’s your mother?”

“She’s well, fretful as always, but doing okay.”

“Good, good,” says Leonard. “It’s so good to see you, I can’t believe how much you look like your father.”

“Joe even more so, my mother reminds him every chance she gets.”

“So the family’s well?”

“Yes, all happy and healthy.”

“Well, no point standing here, let’s get you in and settled.”

“Looking forward to it, sir.” He puts off reporting the weekend’s incident. He’d prefer to do it in quieter surrounds.

“Good God, Zach, call me Leonard, this isn’t the goddamn army.”

Zach’s new pass lets him through the security gates and he walks with Leonard to the elevators, his new superior chatting about the various amenities as they go.

“The café here’s exclusively for employees; don’t need the public riff-raff coming in disrupting the peace. Really good coffee, you drink coffee?”

“Every morning,” says Zach.

“I find I need a kick around mid-afternoon.”

Zach is unsure if it’s a veiled invitation. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Let me know when you come down and I’ll join you.”

“Of course,” he says, wishing he hadn’t misunderstood. 

“There’s a gym with a running track, and a pool if you’re into the fitness thing. We also have a car washing service including detailing and a mechanic if ever the need arises.”

“Okay. You guys thought of everything.”

“I learned a long time ago that if you keep your employees happy, they tend to stick around. I’ve acquired some of the best minds in the country here; I don’t want to lose them.” Leonard continues chatting as they take the elevator. They disembark at the ninth floor.

After a few more brief introductions, Leonard deposits Zach in his new office. The city of LA stretches out like a sea of coral; buildings of varying heights, colors and textures transform the window into a stunning, framed perspective.

“Welcome home, son,” says Leonard quietly.

Zach nods, but it doesn’t feel like home, not yet. Had his father still been alive Zach has little doubt that he would have grown up here, maybe even climbed the corporate ladder of WOLPh instead of feeling like a ring-in.

“I’ll leave you to it for the moment. I’ll come for you in about ten and introduce you to your team.” Leonard leaves him, and Zach drags himself away from the view, placing his laptop on the desk in front of his chair before booting it up.

He’s buried in the reports, busily analyzing numbers when there’s a quiet tap on his door. It opens to reveal a slender woman with incredible cat-like eyes and long hair slicked back in a ponytail.

“You must be Zach,” she says.

Zach pulls off his glasses and stands, coming around the desk with his hand already extended. “Yes, I’m Zach, Zach Quinto, new GM of Finance.”

“I’m Zoë Saldana, GM of Marketing,” she says, grasping his hand firmly and smiling. “So you’re the one I have to suck up to.”

“I beg your pardon?” says Zach, but Zoë is laughing.

“I’m forever making demands to increase the marketing budget. You want the best, you have to pay for it.”

“Oh, I see, of course,” says Zach, mortified that he can feel his cheeks are flushed. “Well, from what I’ve discerned so far, the company’s in an extremely good financial position, even with the shaky economy.”

“Ah, good to know,” says Zoë, tapping a finger to the side of her nose. “So you’re new to LA, right? Had much of a chance to look around?”

“Not really,” he says wishing he’d spent the weekend alone at home instead of being hauled across the city like a bag of Vampire take-out. He decides to forego reporting the incident. He’d rather not make his first impression one of complete naïveté. It was bad enough he’d shown as much to Rachel. “Anything you can recommend?”

“One word,” she says. “Cerberus.”

“Cerberus?”

“Uh huh,” she says and begins to dance with her arms up and her hips swaying. “The best night club on the planet. I’ll have to take you. The other GMs are wavering on the, you know, _old_ side, so us young’uns have to find fun for ourselves. A few of my girls and I go just about every week.”

“In need of a chaperone, are you?”

“Hardly!” she says with a big grin. “But if getting out with your friends and partying is a way you like to unwind, then Cerberus is the place for you.”

Zach remembers the numerous times he’d had to drag Matt out to go clubbing. The truth is, Zach loves to go out, and finds a few hours of rigorous dancing are enough to shake off the daily grind, and reinvigorate his spirit.

“I’m in,” he says. “Email me the address and the time you’ll be going.”

“Wonderful!” Zoë squeaks. “The girls are gonna love you!”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to it. Since it’s your first day I guess lunch is out of the question, but I’m just down the hall to the left, my name is on the wall beside the door anyway, like the rest of us.” Zach recalls his name plaque, black with silver lettering.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Great!” She leaves, and Zach wanders back to his desk. The clock on his laptop says eleven forty-eight and he’s surprised the morning’s almost gone.

“Zach,” says Leonard, the instant Zach’s back in his chair. He stands again, although he’s a little unsure as to the proper protocol of addressing his superior, and not just in the sense that Leonard is his boss. “I want you to meet someone.” Leonard gestures for Zach to follow. “I realize today’s going to be something of a write-off, but how are you finding it so far?”

“Very different,” he says. “Zoë came and introduced herself.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Got you dancing yet?”

“Almost.”

“That’s our Zoë.” They come to a desk situated in front of a door that bears the name Peter Weller. “Hello, Susan, is he in?”

“Yes, sir,” says Susan. She leaves the desk and goes straight to the door situated behind her, knocking gently before opening it. She ushers them in, and Zach can see that his own office is almost paltry compared to the one he’s stepping into. It’s bigger for a start, with more furniture; a couple of armchairs in one corner and a large table surrounded by chairs in another. The main desk is huge and looks antique. Behind it, rising from his chair, is a man with thinning hair and a gruff expression. Zach has the impression the guy has little patience for anything.

“Leonard,” he says. “Always a pleasure.” Then he turns his attention to Zach. “You must be the new GM of Finance.”

Like everyone else, the man extends his hand and shakes Zach’s firmly. Something’s very wrong, and it takes a mere moment for Zach to pinpoint the problem.

Unlike everyone else he’s met so far, this man is human.

“Peter Weller,” he says. “Company Manager for WOLPh.”

“A pleasure, sir,” says Zach.

“As you know, Peter, I’ve had my eye on him for quite some time. It’s good to have new blood, trusted blood,” says Leonard.

“Of course,” says Peter and Zach can’t help but feel as though the human wants to roll his eyes. The traditions and ethics of Weres run long and deep, and it would be hard for any human to understand; even Zach finds some of them hard concepts. Weres are borderline fundamentalist.

“Welcome aboard,” says Peter. “I’m sure you’ll become an asset to the company.” 

“I aspire to be so,” says Zach. His uncertainty around accepting the job has waned since he arrived in LA, but after meeting Peter he can feel it surging back with a vengeance.  He wonders if his appointment had been the subject of argument between Peter and Leonard. Had Leonard fought hard to acquire approval, or had he just put his foot down? During the phone interview Zach had been tempted to ask how many other applicants were in the running. He had little doubt there would have been several, and even less doubt that perhaps one or two were better suited. Maybe they had even been human.

“I’m looking forward to your contribution, Zach,” says Peter. He seems genuinely pleased now, and Zach wonders if he misinterpreted the earlier vibe.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now tell me,” says Peter. “How did you go with Rachel?”

Zach can’t help but feel the smallest sense of loyalty towards Rachel. In spite of their introduction, she had been friendly and helpful. And although she wasn’t around during the attack, he doesn’t want to cause her trouble. He decides to spare her from whatever punishment might be delivered should WOLPh learn of her negligence, regardless of who might actually own her.

It reminds him of a time when his mother, fresh from arguing with his father, turned to him and said, “Punishing evil does not make it good.” She had sympathized with the Vampires’ plight because she figured if God created them, then He saw they had a purpose. Margot Quinto was always a strong woman who put her family first, but Zach knew they were anything but a truly happy home. He never once heard her say she regretted marrying his father, or the fact that he was Were. She’d accepted him as he was, but she vehemently voiced her thoughts about how he spent his time with other Weres, and how they treated Vampires.

After his father’s death, his mother was more concerned about her sons’ welfare than ensuring they had a proper Werewolf upbringing. She had little choice but to raise her boys alone, but did choose to do so without Were role models. Joe had tried to answer Zach’s questions on Werewolf lore as best he could, but Zach knew even then that it fell significantly short to what his Werekin were taught. Most of his childhood friends had been human, as the other Weres felt they were betraying their heritage, but instead of being bullied they were simply ignored. Though Margot couldn’t shut out Were life entirely, she made damn sure the boys understood right from wrong, and as far as she was concerned, preaching hate about a misunderstood people was as dreadful a sin as murder itself. Even so, Zach would sometimes get angry, and wish they’d stayed in LA where he could learn how to be a proper Werewolf. But it was too late by then.

“Rachel and I got on fine,” he says to Peter. “We have so few Vampires in Pittsburgh, it’s almost a novelty to see one.”

“Good,” says Peter, eyeing him carefully. “I’m glad she found you safe and sound.”

Zach wonders why it matters so much. Peter is human, so what does he care about a Were’s Imus? “If I might ask, to whom does she belong?”

“We’ll discuss the matter of Imus further after the meeting this afternoon, Zach,” says Leonard.

“She belongs to me,” says Peter, ignoring Leonard’s comment. His smile has changed, and Zach thinks it’s gratification. Yes, things are different in LA. Too different.

“But you’re -”

“Human,” says Peter, finishing Zach’s sentence. “Strange as it may seem, I am aware of my lineage. But one thing you’ll find here Zach, is things are run a little differently at WOLPh.”

So maybe it’s not all of LA, perhaps it’s just here in the company that the way of the Were seems inconsequential. What he remembers of it, anyway.

“Let’s discuss it this afternoon,” Leonard suggests. “I’m sure you have several questions, Zach. It might be easier to get the answers all at once.”

“Of course,” he says, though he’s still trying to process what’s just been said. A Vampire belonging to a human? Maybe he hasn’t fully recovered from the ordeal with the twins. Maybe he’s still dreaming, and he’ll wake up in his apartment.

“Why don’t we meet the rest of your team?” suggests Leonard, already placing a guiding hand to Zach’s back to direct him from the office.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” says Peter, and resumes whatever it was he was doing when they interrupted.

Zach wonders if his plane did in fact land in LA because he’s beginning to think it found a rip in the space-time continuum and he’s found himself in a world completely foreign to him, the world of WOLPh.  Humans owning Vampires? Vampires targeting Weres? In spite of his meager learning about Were culture he can’t help but feel like something is very wrong here.

Zach’s team consists of four managers, each in charge of a department of analysts. It gives him an even greater sense of where he sits within the hierarchy, and a greater level of comfort, as finance and analysis seem far more real than the Realm of WOLPh.

He has lunch with Leonard and again, Zach considers bringing up the attack, and what the protocols are for such an incident, but since the conversation is mostly Leonard reminiscing about his father John, he decides it’s better to bring it up later. Leonard begins telling Zach how much he misses him and occasionally mentioning the upset it caused when his mother took Zach and Joe to Pittsburgh. Zach tries his best to answer questions, but since he was so young he can’t give much, other than it being his mother’s decision.

He wants to ask about Peter, and find out how it is that a human is one of the more powerful people of the organization--and even owns a Vampire! That, and the fact that Peter seemed less than keen about Zach’s appointment. Although Leonard’s been open and friendly, Zach can’t let down his guard and explain his uncertainty just yet. He doesn’t trust Leonard, not yet; not when he hasn’t seen the guy in almost three decades.

The two o’clock meeting takes place in a large conference room that also overlooks the city. He takes a seat next to Zoë, since she is, so far, the only one he truly likes even if he barely knows her. She smiles warmly at him when he’s seated. Most of the faces at the meeting are new and unfamiliar. Conversations create a kind of white noise, as people find a seat and catch up with each other. Eventually, once everyone’s seated, Leonard stands.

“Good afternoon, all,” he says. “Firstly, I would ask that each of you take the time over the next few days to introduce yourselves Zach, be sure to make him feel welcome.” Zach smiles at the faces smiling at him, and for the first time since he arrived feels a small sense of belonging. “Now Karl, there was an interesting development in your area, would you mind sharing that with us?”

Karl is a tall man in a sharp gray suit, and designer stubble. Zach tries to follow his presentation, but has trouble understanding some of the jargon and terminology that the others seem to bat around. There’s been a breakthrough with a new drug the company has been working on, a new vaccine that has the potential to ward off a number of previously unpreventable diseases. Karl talks about molecules and cell structures, and seems very excited about what’s been discovered. Chemistry wasn’t one of Zach’s best subjects, but he tries to follow since it’ll be his job to ensure the product is delivered to budget.

After Karl, Peter takes the floor, and he starts talking about the last full moon. Zach finds it extremely odd that a human is talking about a night that is sacrosanct to all Werewolves. Zach was still in Pittsburgh during the last one, but he’s intrigued when Peter talks about the number of kills made, and how many Vampires were brought in to become Kine. Ten deaths, two captured. The numbers aren’t exactly staggering, but Peter seems pleased with the outcome. There are colorful charts and graphs depicting the ratios of Vampires, and where they seem most prevalent, but even though there’s still a significant number, the Weres of LA seem to have the situation under control. At least that’s the impression Zach’s getting, but after his less-than-joyous weekend he can’t help but think that they’re deluding themselves.

“But as I keep telling you each and every time, we have a big problem, people,” says Peter addressing the entire table. “To date, we still haven’t found the Vampire, or Vampires, capable of turning humans. I realize it’s a tough call given the rarity of such a creature, but need I remind you that until we capture and bring those Vampires in, our job here will only get worse? More and more people are going to lose their human lives, or lose them completely.”

That’s new, so Zach listens intently. The Were history lessons he’d had as a child told stories of Vampires turning humans, but the war of 1775, what the human population call the War of American Independence, saw most Vampires capable of such power killed. Even Zach knows that the only way a Vampire can turn a human is by a bite to the neck in the carotid artery, so the saliva infects the blood that’s headed straight for the brain. The key factor to this process is the Vampire must be at least five hundred years old.

During the war, the Werewolves took the initiative to sweep the country in a rare uniting of territories with the sole purpose of eliminating all Vampires. Though they failed to wipe out the species, they put a significant dent in the Vampire population, including the Vampires with the ability to turn humans, or _Rakdanava_ as Zach remembers them being called; the ancient Sanskrit term meaning _blood demon_. It’s not a history he’s proud of as he recalls several arguments over the dinner table between his parents. He tried to rationalize the Werewolves motives: Vampires were a threat to humans. Like an introduced species has the potential to ravage a delicate ecosystem, so too Vampires could decimate the human population and wipe them out in a matter of generations.

And LA apparently still has some Vampires old enough to have seen most of America’s modern history. If that’s true, and there are Vampires out there who are at least five hundred years old, then technically they either came over with the first settlers or were descendants of the natives who initially inhabited the land. Zach’s historical knowledge isn’t much better than his chemistry, but either way, these elderly Vampires will have seen and survived a lot. He finds himself almost admiring them; they would have the advantage of experiencing historical events first-hand. Of course, he keeps the sentiment to himself.

Peter finishes, and Leonard closes by announcing the date of the next meeting. Everyone packs up their laptops, stray coffee cups, and whatever other extraneous bits they’d brought, and begin to file out of the room. A few say hi to Zach in passing, and he smiles back, heartened that they’re being so friendly.

“Zach,” says Leonard, catching him before he heads out the door. He’d been talking to his executive assistant Jacob, but stopped when Zach walked past. “I think perhaps we should go to my office. There are a few things we should discuss.”

Zach nods and waits for Leonard, who finishes his discussion with Jacob. The EA is typing quickly as Leonard speaks, nodding every so often as he takes down whatever vital information needs to be recorded.

Jacob leads the way, but Zach finds Leonard is a lot less chatty now, and wonders if it’s anything to do with the discussion they’re about to have. He can feel a build up of dread in his stomach.

They leave Jacob at his desk, and Leonard ushers Zach into his office. It’s as big as Peter’s, but Leonard’s furniture choices seem less antique than just plain _old_. Zach can see the aging Were’s presence in the ancient-looking, overstuffed armchairs, the dated desk and the myriad crusting volumes sitting in the bookcases. In truth, Zach doesn’t know Leonard’s actual age. For human society’s sake he refers to himself as being around eighty or so. But Zach thinks it’s possibly twice that, given that Weres age much more slowly than regular humans. Retirement mustn’t be a priority at this stage.

“Have a seat,” says Leonard, indicating one of the two armchairs positioned next to the window. The view is still incredible and Zach takes a minute to soak it up while Leonard fusses with coffee, and does Zach want one.

“Just water,” Zach says, already feeling his mouth going dry. He hasn’t had many of these kinds of conversations. The earliest was perhaps his mother’s unsuccessful attempt to explain why his father wouldn’t be coming home from the hospital. Joe had taken over, and though he’d been rather blunt, he’d let Zach cry on his shoulder, and had hugged him for a long time after.

“Where to begin,” says Leonard once he’s settled in his chair and had a sip of his coffee.

“What if I ask a few questions and we take it from there?” says Zach.

Leonard sighs, “That’s probably best.”

“Explain Peter,” says Zach. His initial concern about his trusting Leonard seems placated for now. He wants answers, and if they want him in this organization then surely he has the right to know. “I thought WOLPh was a Were company. Why has a human been elevated to such a high position, and given the right to own a Vampire?”

“Peter is here because he is a dedicated, loyal and extremely trusted associate.”

“How is that even possible?” says Zach. It’s not that he doesn’t think humans are any less _capable_ , he just needs to understand why a predominantly-Were organization would allow one so close to the top. He realizes the thoughts in his head have the voice of his father.

“It was several years ago now, in fact a few years after your father’s death. I rescued Peter from a Vampire. He was dying. It was the night of the full moon, and I was making my way back home, before I turned back into human form. I hadn’t quite killed the Vampire, but before I could finish it off I changed into a human before Peter’s eyes. I used the Vampire’s blood to save him, and he’s been by my side ever since. The only thing that stops him from fully being one of us is his inability to turn into a Wolf.”

Zach can’t deny the instinctual desire Weres have to protect humans. Their species depends on humans as a Were needs a human to breed. He’s felt the inescapable grasp of the protective instinct whenever he turns into a Wolf. It fades when he’s human, but he can always sense it, always feels the need to help should the situation arise. He doesn’t know why he feels so threatened by Peter, and it’s crazy since he barely knows the guy, but he tries to accept it and stop his father’s words from clouding his judgment.

“And Rachel?”

“As I said, the only thing that differs is he can’t change into a Wolf. As the years passed and his loyalty to us grew, I wanted to reward him for his continued service to our cause. I helped him acquire Rachel, although I wasn’t sure how well it would work, given Vampires only see humans as walking blood banks.” He sips his coffee. “But she’s proven herself to him, and since it’s a one-off, I’m not about to disrupt a relationship, however unorthodox, that works.”

“And when he dies?”

“So shall she, as we have always done whenever one of us in ownership of Imus dies.”

“Oh,” says Zach. He hadn’t been aware of that. He’s not sure why, but he thinks of Chris. The thought of him dying at the hands of Weres clutches at his stomach. “They know about us then? All the humans that work for WOLPh, they know Weres exist?”

“Unlike Pittsburgh, there are a great many more of us here. We run corporations, and so it became necessary to be more open and honest. Yes, people know, but those who do also understand the need to keep us out of the media.”

“But—”

“Yes, we have had instances where reporters have shown up and asked a lot of demanding questions, but we manage to deflect them. Whatever story they might have had collapses into a heap of hearsay.”

“I see,” says Zach. He realizes he’s been seriously sheltered under his mother’s care, and for the first time since he arrived in LA he has a bitter taste of resentment in the back of his throat. Did she have any idea what it would mean to keep them out of the Were community?

“Zach, why did you think I wanted you here?”

“To become the head of finance?” he says. He knows there’s probably a lot more to it, and he remembers his mother cursing Leonard, though he never got an answer as to why. He stops himself from inwardly cursing _her_ and swallows down the frustration with a sip of water.

“Son, I’m not going to live forever, much as it might seem as though I will,” he says with a chuckle. “The point is, without a son of my own, the company was meant to go to John, your father, but after he was taken from me I had to make different choices.”

Zach feels his heart rate increase, and his mouth is even drier, so he tries swallowing down some water. His throat is threatening to close off.

“I wasn’t thrilled to learn that your mother, bless her, had basically dropped out of Were society and had taken her boys with her. Like all humans who marry into our world, she’s as much connected to us as any Were. We would have protected her and you boys had you stayed.”

“Joe?” says Zach, sensing where the conversation is headed. Surely his older brother would come after his father.

“Joe wasn’t a consideration, as he chose to pursue his love of photography. But when I found out that you were studying business, I knew there was hope.”

“What are you saying?” says Zach, though he already knows.

“I want you as my successor, Zach. I need a new, young Werewolf mind to carry this company into the future. We have some incredible developments, and several products that have given the world a healthier way of life.”

“You can’t be serious,” says Zach. “I don’t think I’m ready, or the right person. What about Peter?” He’s floundering; throw the human in the path of the missile instead of handling it himself.

“Bah,” says Leonard. “I’m not going anywhere yet, and you are the right person. You’re John’s son, and you’re Were.”

“Won’t the others be expecting this kind of recognition?” Flustered, he sits forward in his chair, almost spilling the water as he sets it down. Regardless of the fact that he’s relieved Leonard intends to keep WOLPh under Were control, he can already see the looks of annoyance as his jilted colleagues stare in disbelief, each wondering who this asshole sucked off to land the top job. “I have no experience in running a company.”

“You will by the time it becomes your responsibility. As I said, I’m not going anywhere yet. And WOLPh needs a leader who has a mind for figures. I studied commerce and business myself, and look how it’s paid off.”

“I really don’t think I’m who you want, even if I am John’s son.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to comprehend what Leonard is saying. Clearly it’s the nostalgic idea of an old man’s sentimental mind. Maybe he can play it down; it would be several years down the track before he really had to worry. And by then he might be in a completely different job.

“Zach, there were many factors I considered when I knew I would have to make a decision like this. Usually there’s a board of members and they vote who takes control. But I can’t allow that to happen. I understand your reluctance and I’m willing to let you simply consider it for now. I’ve told you it won’t be for a while, but I felt I had to really explain why I needed you here.”

“Thank you,” Zach says, deciding it’s too early to panic. Let the old guy believe he has a successor for now. It can be handled when it really matters.

“After John, you’re the closest thing I have to a son, Zach. I know it may not seem like it, but it’s true.” Zach nods; yeah, definitely worry about it later. Leonard seems to change mood and claps his thighs as though struck by inspiration. “What’s really important now, though, is appointing you an Imus. The sooner the better I should think. I never walk the streets at night without Hemsworth.”

“Hemsworth?” asks Zach wondering if Leonard’s choice of Imus is some silver spoon Brit.

“It’s his surname and he prefers to be referred to by it,” says Leonard.

“Fair enough.”

“Now, we’re very careful in who we keep as Kine and who we dispose of. As I’m sure you’re aware, Vampires never willingly choose to become Kine, but once a Kine becomes Imus they often see the higher purpose, and appreciate our generosity in giving them a bit more liberty.”

“Kine?” Zach asks, unfamiliar with the term. Imus he knows as Vampires selected and owned by Weres called Domini. He’s never heard of Kine before.

Leonard looks stricken. “They’re the Vampire Rogues we’ve captured during the full moon,” he says, as though he’s unsure why he has to explain it.

“I see. It was my understanding we could make a Rogue Imus if we wanted to,” says Zach, desperately trying to recall his schooling. His hope of avoiding a naïve first impression fizzles at the look of total despair in Leonard’s eyes.

“Oh, Zach,” he says softly. “That’s true, but we also have Kine to better study the Vampire as a species. The process behind it makes them less aggressive in the long run, and a better candidate for becoming Imus.”

Zach wonders if the Vampires consider a life of servitude better than the alternative of being kept prisoner, or worse, killed. “I see. So a Kine can become an Imus.”

“Yes, that’s right; Kine can be made Imus far easier than a Rogue can. A free Vampire is more dangerous than an uncontained virus. Did they not have Imus in Pittsburgh?”

“I think so, but—” Zach pauses and sees that disappointed look on Leonard’s face again. “I can only assume that they existed.”

Leonard hesitates. “The older Weres would have had them, I’m sure?” He phrases it as a question, as though he doesn’t want to be shocked by Zach’s ignorance.

“So, what do I need to do?” Zach has had enough talk about Pittsburgh, and the constant looks he gets whenever he mentions his lack of traditional Were upbringing to Leonard.

Leonard downs the last of his coffee and checks his watch. “Ah, plenty of time. Why don’t we go down to the labs and you can see for yourself? You might even find one you like.”

A crawling ripple resonates down Zach’s back knowing it isn’t a puppy he’s off to see, but creatures that have the same attributes as him, in spite of the concealed differences. He finds it odd that Leonard is so casual about the prospect, and wonders what _his_ childhood had been like. Having been taught that Vampires were inferior, Zach thinks perhaps it’s odd that _he_ isn’t feeling as blasé.

His mind battles for understand ttohe fact that the creatures he’s about to view were once the same creatures his instincts would have told him to protect. Weres need humans to breed; Vampires need humans to feed. Humans need neither Weres nor Vampires. _Who’s the superior race now?_ he thinks.

Once in the elevator, Leonard presses his pass against a small metal plate. A blank screen above it flicks to life and a series of touch pad buttons appear. He enters a code and the elevator begins its descent.

“Given your level of management, Zach, you have access down here too. It might be worthwhile coming here to assess your options.”

The doors open to bright white light, and when they exit they’re in a small chamber with glass paneling. A tall white cupboard stands against one wall and Leonard goes directly to it. He extracts two white lab coats and two sets of blue cloth slippers. Zach slips on the coat and sees Leonard sitting in one of the provided chairs to pull the blue pockets over his shoes. Zach follows suit and then Leonard enters a code on the small touch screen next to the door. There’s a click and a hiss of air when he opens the door. Zach feels as though he’s stepped into some secret government laboratory with the amount of highly technical gadgetry that’s humming around the room. Glass-fronted refrigerators line one wall, benches and sinks are in uniform rows and banks of machines are whirring and bleeping, robotic arms moving with precise calculation. Several people are bent over working, but a few of them look up, and even wave. They don’t move from their positions, just give a friendly acknowledgement before they resume their work. Zach follows Leonard through to a second door, which also requires a code. A second chamber is revealed, but this time there’s a puff of spray that stings Zach’s nose.

“Disinfectant,” says Leonard when Zach looks at him in surprise. “In spite of the fact that they are unable to contract disease, we still maintain a sterile environment.”

Zach wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find, prison cells maybe, but the truth residing in WOLPh’s basement is far more confronting that he’d imagined.

Beyond the door, again coded, is row after row of extra large humidicribs; humidicribs for adults, since that’s what’s lying in each and every one. Zach can’t see to the end, but he presumes that they’re all full. The idea makes him oddly ashamed. The thumping rhythm of hundreds of heartbeats drums against his ears. He walks up to one and sees an adult male lying unconscious inside. He has the gray pallor of death, but his chest is rising and falling. He’s almost naked, except for a pair of white boxer trunks, and is lying on a white plastic mattress. An IV tube embedded in his inner elbow is filled with the characteristically dark red blood of a Vampire. Another tube is taped to his mouth, the blood a little brighter. Both tubes run through to a small machine attached to the end of the humidicrib then to a pair of bags hanging from a tall chrome infusion holder: one draining, and one filling.

Zach swallows as memories of his father, lying prone with tubes and machines keeping him alive, cloud his mind. Even though it was so long ago Zach finds the sights and smells are not all that dissimilar. He begins to feel a little nauseated.

Each crib has the same set up: a person inside being slowly drained of their blood, but fed at the same time. A couple of employees are working between the rows, each dressed in a lab coat, unhooking full or empty bags and replacing them. He tries not to clutch his stomach, determined to keep his lunch down. He knows they’re not human; they’re Vampires.

This is how it’s supposed to be.

“Zach, this is Lisa,” says Leonard. She’s also in a lab coat, but she’s holding a tablet like a clipboard.

“Hello Zach,” she says and he shakes her hand. “Window shopping or making a purchase?”

“It’s quite a collection,” says Zach still trying to calculate how many Vampires are lying here. It looks as though the entire floor, save for the laboratory they passed through, is dedicated to the humidicribs and the occupants therein.

“Just browsing for now,” says Leonard.

If Zach felt queasy before, he feels decidedly ill now. Do they seriously think he’ll just wander the rows and pick out whichever one takes his fancy? In spite of his two run-ins with Vampires it doesn’t feel right just randomly selecting one to spend the rest of its life at his beck and call. He’d rather not have anything more to do with them, quite frankly. But both Lisa and Leonard are looking at him expectantly.

“Take a look around,” says Lisa, gesturing to the expanse of cribs. “But do let me know if you’re interested. I have notes on every single one of these babies.”

Zach nods and does his best to hold in the snort of derision. He wants to think that she’s joking, but the way she patted the closest humidicrib when saying as much makes him realize she’s being genuine.

Leonard and Lisa begin talking, leaving Zach to peruse the cribs as he likes. He wanders down a few rows, changes direction and heads further down along another. It’s so disconcerting, walking among the living dead. He’s not convinced that they’re asleep since a Vampire’s true sleep stops their heart, and their breathing. When a Vampire sleeps they are technically dead. But these Vampires are breathing, and he can hear their hearts beating. He stops at a woman. Her mouth is partially open, and Zach can see her fangs, the tips resting against her bottom lip. It stops his breath for a moment. Harmless now, but even his addled memory gives recognition to the fact that they could deliver quite significant pain. The tube in her mouth is shoved in the corner and taped across her lips. It takes away the otherwise vicious look she might have had, if just her fangs were showing. She’s dressed in a white tank top and bikini briefs and he can see her chest rising and falling. He has to admit, they appear every bit human, in spite of the oddly-shaped teeth.

He wonders what she did before she was captured. He knows some Vampires even have jobs, and try to assimilate themselves with a society that would otherwise see them as a threat. Which they are, he reminds himself. Then he considers what she did as a human, and how old she is. She almost looks vulnerable, helpless in her unnatural sleep. Zach wonders how long some of them have been here. Months? Years? Quite possibly as long as WOLPh itself has been here.

“That one’s a new addition,” says Lisa, startling Zach. She’s obviously mistaken his stopping to mean he’s interested. “It’ll require a bit of training, which we can accommodate.” She refers to her notes. “It wasn’t Vampire long before we made it Kine. So it’ll still be hanging onto a few human habits. You know, thinking it can still eat regular food, go out in the sun, that sort of thing.”

Zach nods. He remembers that lesson vividly. His father had taken him to the Den alone – he can’t remember why Joe wasn’t there. The Weres had captured a Vampire, and they were provoking it, torturing it to see how it would react. Zach had found himself hating his father that night. Even though he wasn’t doing anything directly, it was the fact that he was joining in with the others, laughing and cheering, and daring them to do stuff. At one point one of the Weres took a can of beer, grabbed the Vampire’s hair and yanked back his head. They tipped the contents of the can down his throat, and took great delight in watching the poor creature throw it all up again. Then out came the pizza.

Zach had been so disgusted and so saddened that he’d walked out into the night. He vaguely remembers a ride in a police car, but vividly recalls the shouting match between his parents.

“I’m just looking,” he tells Lisa.

“No problem,” she says. “It can be daunting given it’ll be with you the rest of your life.”

The rest of his life. Like a marriage, an arranged marriage, to someone he’s never met before and knows nothing about.

“Once you’ve selected one, I’ll take it out of here and prepare it for training. Just let me know as soon as you’ve chosen.”

“And make it soon,” adds Leonard, having joined them.

“Of course,” says Zach, thinking again that moving here was a big mistake.

Lisa finishes the tour by showing them where the blood is stored. A great cool room at the other end of the building holds several thousand gallons of blood.

“Blood to feed Imus is held on a different floor. Once you’ve completed the training course for owning an Imus, Zach, you’ll have full access to acquire the blood to feed it.”

“Right,” says Zach, trying to pay attention, but finding it hard as he contemplates just how much blood he’s viewing. Where on earth does it all come from?

Lisa goes on to explain what the codes on the labels mean. The blood for the Kine has a symbol of an animal, be it cow, pig or sheep. “It doesn’t matter which,” she says as she shows him. “So long as it’s animal, that’s what puts them to sleep. We have arrangements with a few abattoirs.”

Zach’s just relieved it’s not human. He doesn’t want to consider how _that_ kind of an arrangement would work.

But then it occurs to him: if animal blood puts a Vampire to sleep, what are the Imus drinking?

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach finds his need for protection is more desperate than he first imagined. Chris has been around too long and knows that it's not a position he wants to fill--and yet when Zach calls, he answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: violence and gore; kissing someone who is unconscious; tampering with memories and administering (supernatural) drugs without knowledge or consent.

The pile of junk mail on Zach’s coffee table has grown considerably since his move from Pittsburgh. A mountain of catalogs, sale specials, flyers and misdirected mail form a mound of glossy pictures and white, windowed envelopes in the center of his apartment. His first week at WOLPh, albeit only three days, has been nothing short of grueling, but he’s been determined to figure out how his predecessor managed to budget for anything given the state of the files he’s inherited.

With an audible sigh, he perches on the edge of the sofa and begins sifting through the pile of mail. Catalogues and junk on one side, anything that looks remotely official in another. Picking up the last brochure of hardware specials reveals a book, long hidden, that he didn’t even remember he had. He picks it up, realization sinking in fast when he recognizes it as the one Chris had left in his car. The Vampire. He’s tried to repress what was left of the memories from that night, busying himself with long hours at work until he came home too exhausted to do anything but sleep. His stomach twists as the circumstances and events of that night, though foggy, unfurl in his brain. He tosses the book back on the table, inert and harmless, but his mind fills with the Vampire’s image. A shiver runs down his back when he remembers the way they’d come together, chest to chest, after he stumbled. He can’t help but admit that Chris’s eyes had been nothing short of amazing.

 

Chris is in the middle of a complex level of his game when his phone suddenly begins buzzing. He ignores it because he thinks it might be Simon asking him back. It’s been almost a week since he quit, but even so, he’s not about to take any chances. This is his down time, the time between jobs when he kicks back, and does what he likes until the inevitable despondency sets in, and he hunts for a new job.

The phone beeps, announcing he has voicemail. He lets it go for a minute, telling himself it can wait while he finishes the mission. But his mind won’t let him, and his curiosity sees him lose focus. He dies gloriously, with copious amounts of gunfire and computer-generated blood spatter.

“ _Hi, Chris, it’s Zach, um, from the other night, when you kind of rescued me… Anyway, I seem to have your book, the Sam Shepard. You must have dropped it in the car when you drove me home. I’m happy to give it back if you want to give me a time and place that suits, or if you’d like to come over I’ll be up till, well, lateish, so whenever man… Okay, might see you, take care._ ”

For a moment Chris has to think about the book, since he’s forgotten about it, but of course he recalls the evening when he fought off the twins to rescue the wounded Were. He’s surprised to be hearing from Zach at all, and since he hadn’t actually missed the book, he figures perhaps it’s the Were’s way of saying thank you.

What’s even more surprising is Zach’s invitation. Had it been any other Were Chris might just as well have said goodbye to the book. He considers Zach’s motive, and wonders if Zach’s also invited a few of his Were buddies. Is the book that important?

He remembers the moment when they were hard up against each other, when he’d stopped Zach from plowing face first into the ground. Christ, it gives him a shiver, and he admonishes himself for recalling such an intense moment. Other than Zach’s initial shock, and the fact he’d been attacked, Chris hadn’t seen or sensed any real animosity about his being Vampire, and they’d spoken civilly enough in the car. Paranoia isn’t a mainstay, but on the odd occasion it has kept Chris alive. He rationalizes that Zach was the one to reach out, and Chris firmly believes he’s not like other Weres and so decides, what the hell.

In spite of the fact that he’ll still smell like a Vampire to the Were, Chris does his best and scrubs his skin and hair with the scented soap he finds in the staff kitchen, instead of his regular bar of generic soap. The bottle’s label says pomegranate and peach, and even _he_ can smell the fruity sweetness as he froths it over his chest and shoulders.

It’s not until he’s fully dressed, and combing his still-damp hair that he actually sees himself and stops. _What the fuck am I doing_? It worries him that after Zach’s call, his first inclination was to make himself pretty.

“This is ridiculous,” he says to his reflection, and he drops the comb, shoving his fingers through instead, making his hair tousled.

He changes out of his favorite shirt, and swaps it for a plain one, and rather than his casual slip-ons, he chooses his comfortable, everyday boots. He makes his way over to South Flower Street, but pauses for a moment at the driveway, looking up to where Zach’s apartment is situated. He can’t see any lights, but that doesn’t mean Zach isn’t home. He could be watching TV, or reading, which hardly requires all the lights to be on.

 _Quit stalling_ , he thinks, and heads for the elevator. His hands feel jittery and his mouth is suddenly dry. _What on earth is going on? This is insane!_ He gives himself a shake as the elevator ascends, but his nerves are still on edge, and he’s suddenly embarrassed at the rate his heart is thumping. Knowing full well that the heartbeats are how Weres track Vampires, Chris figures Zach will hear him coming.

When he’s at the solid white door he wipes his hands down his jeans, which is more a nervous habit since he doesn’t get clammy hands, but he hasn’t felt like this in a very long time. He forgoes the doorbell and raises his hand, knocking loudly.

Noah instantly begins barking; or at least he figures it’s Noah since he can’t exactly tell, but it’s definitely only one dog. Chris can hear him pawing at the door, but the next moment Noah dashes off, his nails clipping over timber and tile. But there’s no answer. At first Chris wonders if maybe Zach’s asleep, but with his heartbeat, the knocking and, well, an extremely excited dog, Chris figures if he _had_ been asleep, he should be very much awake now.

He takes out his phone, and listens to Zach’s message again. Yep, he’d said he’d be up till ‘lateish’ if Chris decided to come over tonight. Maybe he’s changed his mind, or was playing some kind of trick. Either way, Chris feels disappointment surge deep and low inside him. Well, if the asshole hadn’t wanted to return the book, why bother calling?

Chris turns on his heel, and goes back to the elevator. He’s muttering a few curses about Weres and how they believe themselves to be superior do-gooders, when they’re nothing but selfish jerks.

He wanders towards home, in no particular hurry since there’s several hours left of night. He realizes his sudden elation at Zach’s call had been about more than just getting his book back. Chris knows what it is to be lonely, and he would have been happy to quench that loneliness even with a Werewolf. He considers going out instead, and is headed towards Bar Sinister when his phone buzzes.

 _sorry, forgot i called. i’m headed home now if you’re around_ , says Zach’s text.

Chris sighs. He’s known the guy five minutes, and already he’s doing the Were’s bidding. He turns to head back to the apartment, but something makes him dial the number.

“Hello?” says Zach.

“Hey, just got your text,” says Chris. “I’ve just been to your place, are you far?”

“Oh wow, Chris, hello!” says Zach his words overly happy, and a little slurred. “I’m just looking for a taxi, can you believe it’s the middle of the night and there isn’t a single taxi for miles?”

“Are you drunk? Where are you?”

“Um, hang on.” There’s a pause, then a snort of laughter. “Yes, I think I am. I was at Cerberus, with a friend from WOLPh. She decided to show me a bit of the town. Apparently I like Wolf’s bane.”  Chris knows Cerberus, a club frequented by Werewolves, which means he also knows to give it a wide berth. He’s not keen on running into a pack of tipsy Weres.

“Sounds as though you’ve had a few too many Wolf’s banes.”

“It’s funny because I’m a wolf and I shouldn’t like it, but I do,” Zach says and begins to giggle.

“Is your friend with you now?” Chris wonders if Zach’s end of the conversation is being heard. He’s hardly giving away trade secrets, but Chris belatedly realizes it’s been a while since he bought a new disposable cell phone. He doesn’t need to have a trace put on him, regardless of how improbable it may be.

Zach hiccups. “Nah, I’m on my own. I gave her the slip because she had her Imus with her, and he’s not like you. He kept watching us.”

“Wait, did you say you’re on your own?” Chris says, alarmed. Has Zach learned nothing from the ordeal with the twins?

“It’s okay, I have my crossbow,” says Zach sounding very confident in spite of his groggy voice, but Chris can’t help but feel even more panicked. “And Rachel said she would look out for me, it’s totally fine.”

“Like she was watching out for you when those twins decided to have a snack?”

Silence.

“You said Cerberus, yeah? Which direction are you heading?” He’s not about to let Zach fall prey to Vampires again just because he’s worried about a few drunk Weres.

“Left,” says Zach. Chris hears a crash. “Oops!”

“What the hell was that?”

“I kicked a trash can, it’s made a real mess everywhere, I didn’t -”

“Zach?” Chris hears him breathing heavily down the line. “Zach, what’s wrong?”

“Eyes,” whispers Zach. “Oh, God, I’m in big trouble. It's coming!”

“Zach!” shouts Chris. He can hear Zach running, and figures the Were has simply bolted from whatever it was that frightened him, “Zach, tell me where you are?” he hollers, hoping to get his attention.

“I think I lost it,” says Zach panting into the phone. “I—I saw eyes coming out of the darkness.” He seems a little less drunk; perhaps the fear has cleared some of the fog.

“Where are you, Zach? I can be there if you tell me where you are!” His mind is suddenly going crazy with images of attacking Vampires, and Zach’s bloodied body lying lifeless on the pavement.

“I—I don’t know,” says the Were, the slurred speech now trembling.

“I’m coming!”

Chris hurtles down the street in the direction of the Werewolves’ club. In spite of his apprehension at barreling into Were territory, Chris knows he has no choice but to go.  Man, even in his own mind it doesn’t make sense.

In moments he’s in a side street, his tread cautious and steady. There’s an overturned trash can and a tumble of refuse litters the alley. Something lurches up from the gloom, and Chris readies himself, fangs bared. The homeless guy reels back, yelping in fright. Chris instantly backs off, hands up in apology before he zips away again. The streets are anything but deserted as several people go about their business, but none of them appear to be Were, or Vampire for that matter. When he doesn’t see Zach he tries another street, and another. Then he remembers he still has Zach on the line.

“Zach,” he whispers urgently. “You still with me?”

“I’m behind a dumpster. I don’t know if it followed me, I can’t see anything, well anything that might, you know, attack me.”

“Okay, I’m nearly with you,” says Chris. “Do you have a street name?”

“No.”

“Alright, keep calm, I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t hang up!” says Zach.

“I won’t,” says Chris, feeling for the terrified Were. He tries three more alleyways when he sees a large dumpster with a conspicuous head poking out from behind it before suddenly flicking back. “I’m here,” says Chris and disconnects the call. Zach stands, his face fearful as he watches Chris approach. “Are you okay?” says Chris.

“I think so,” says Zach. In one hand he’s got his phone, in the other a small crossbow. He’s shaking, and Chris can see the bow is loaded.

“Okay, I’m just going to take that before it goes off,” he says gently lifting it from Zach’s hand.

“Okay,” says Zach, letting it go without resistance.

“Put your phone in your pocket.” Zach does as he’s told, nodding assent. Chris carefully puts his hand on Zach’s shoulder, and feels the slight flinch. “Alright, you’ve had a nasty fright, let’s get you home, huh?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Dude, considering the introduction you’ve had to this fair city, I’m not surprised.”

He carefully removes the arrow from the crossbow and hands both back to Zach who manages to place them in his inner jacket pocket. They walk out of the alleyway, Chris staying close to Zach because he still seems quite shaken.

“Did you see it?” Zach asks.

Chris wishes Zach would stop referring to his kind as ‘it’, but all he says is, “Nothing to see. ‘It’ was a human.”

“Oh."

“Zach!” They both turn, and Chris sees two figures, one taller than the other. The taller one is male. The shorter female is the one who called Zach’s name. The pair are running towards them until the woman appears to tell the man to stop while she keeps coming. “Oh my God, Zach, where did you go?” she says, recognizing that he’s not doing well. Then she looks at Chris, and her stunning features turn sour at the sight of him. “Who are you?”

“Chris, ma’am,” he says, feeling rather inferior under her intense gaze.

“Back off,” she says, her arm suddenly going around Zach.

“No,” says Zach and his hand reaches out, clinging to Chris‘s arm. “He’s with me,” he says.

The woman steps back. “You have an Imus already?”

“Not quite,” says Zach feebly. “Chris, this is Zoë, my friend from work.”

“Ma’am,” Chris says nodding his head at the introduction.

She looks at him down her nose. “Zach hasn’t mentioned you. I wasn’t aware they’d let him have a Kine on a trial basis.”

Chris bristles but holds his tongue. Kine are captured Vampires and though he doesn’t fully understand what happens to them, he imagines all manner of horrible tortures await those unfortunate enough to be caught. However, given the situation, he’d rather she believe him Kine than know him Rogue. The last thing he wants is a bunch of Werewolves on his tail next full moon.

“I’ve got him from here, ma’am,” he says, bowing his head a little. He knows the Weres like an obedient Vampire.

“You’re okay, Zach?” she asks, clearly not trusting Chris to take care of her workmate.

“I’m fine,” he says, “I’ll catch up with you Monday.” She hesitates, but eventually turns and heads back to the man. Chris sees them talking and then, with a final look back, they head up the street.

“She’s…protective,” says Chris.

“I’m beginning to get that impression,” says Zach. “Her Imus is intimidating. I think she said his name was Eric.”

“Shall we find a cab and get you home?”

“Yes, please.”

Chris feels a swell of pleasure when Zach won’t let go of his arm, but the Were does eventually loosen his grip so they can get into the taxi.

It’s two in the morning when Chris gets Zach up to his apartment, but Zach won’t let him go, almost begging that he stay just for a moment.

“I’d offer you a drink, but I‘m afraid I don’t have anything,” says Zach.

“It’s okay, I’m not thirsty.” At first he thought Zach was being sarcastic, but he seems genuinely sorry that he couldn’t give Chris anything. Like a host with a guest. Chris can’t remember the last time he was treated like a guest. It’s odd and seems unreal, but it gives him a great deal of satisfaction.

“Oh, here,” says Zach, placing a book into Chris’s hands. “That’s the reason for me calling you out of the blue.”

“Thanks.” Chris flicks to the front page and sees his name and cell number. Oh shit! Yeah, time for a new phone. And stop the incessant habit of writing his details in the front of his books! The world won’t end if one actually goes missing.

“Will Zoë expect to see me with you again?”

“No,” says Zach looking puzzled. “Why would you think that?”

“I have the impression she thinks I’m your, uh, Imus.” Chris is familiar with the term, although as far as he’s concerned it’s just another title for the way in which Weres oppress Vampires.

“Oh, yeah. That,” says Zach.

“I have a fairly good idea about how your kind treats my kind, and that a privileged few get a little more liberty than others,” says Chris sarcastically. Kine or Imus: either way, he’s pretty sure the situation would suck for the Vampire involved.

“Imus are Vampires chosen to accompany our executive Weres. I know it can differ from state to state, even city to city, but here, and in WOLPh, that’s how it works. The Kine are…” Zach stalls.

“The Kine are?” Chris prompts. He wants to hear what happens to those unfortunate enough to be caught.

“They’re captured Vampires that we have, um, captured.” Chris senses that Zach’s hiding something, but he lets it go as he’s pretty certain what Zach means. WOLPh isn’t the only Were-orientated organization to own Kine.

“How articulate,” he says. “But that’s a given across the country. Even Vampires know they’re Kine once they’ve been taken.”

“Yes, but Kine can become Imus.”

“Oh, really? And I take it being Imus is better than being Kine,” says Chris, trying not to let his sarcasm take over, because abject humiliation really is a considerable step up from unfathomable torture.

“I guess,” says Zach. “From a Vampire’s viewpoint, maybe, given the circumstances.”

“Right, it all depends on the viewpoint,” says Chris. “Do they take Rogues to become Imus?”

“I don’t know,” says Zach sounding genuinely unsure. “I guess. If they, you know, show the traits of a being a suitable Imus.”

“Let me guess: well mannered, behave themselves, seen but not heard?”

“You seem to know more than I do.”

“Call it Vampire intuition,” says Chris. It’s clear Zach’s understanding of Were culture isn’t all that advanced. Chris would question whether he was Were at all if he hadn’t seen the effect the silver chain had on him. “So you need an Imus?”

“Yeah, it was touched on briefly once I’d accepted the job, but today, well, yesterday now,” he says glancing at his watch. “I’m beginning to understand my boss’s insistence that I get one ASAP,” says Zach, looking at him intently.

“Regardless of how I truly feel about the whole thing, it’s probably a good idea. In a city like this it would be better that you have a trusted Vampire with you. It’s too dangerous otherwise.”

“Oh, you think so?” Zach’s voice is full of surprise.

“Of course. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea just to wander away from your Pack back at the club! Did you learn nothing from the other week?” At first he thinks he’s gone to far, but the look Zach’s giving him is anything but fearful.

“So, you’ll do it then?” says Zach, clearly excited, joy lighting up his eyes. “I’m not all that sure about the whole ‘when the Dominus dies, so does the Imus’ deal, but surely there’s a pardon or some way of renouncing the deal.”

“Uh, excuse me? Do what?”

“Be my Imus,” says Zach, and with that, Chris is off the sofa and heading for the door, much to Harold’s annoyance.

“No way, man, not for all the blood in the bank, nuh-uh, not happening.”

“But you said…” Zach looks incredibly disappointed.

“I said it was a good idea, I didn’t say I was putting my hand up.”

Zach’s look changes. “I could make you, couldn’t I?”

Chris clenches his hands into fists. He’s actually surprised the Were even went there. It’s doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Zach would say, but he figures Zach is still figuring out his role here. It wasn’t a demand, since Zach was more or less asking the question to clarify if what he’s heard is true.

“Yes,” Chris tells him, although he can’t help glaring at Zach. “But I know you won’t. You’re not like them.”

“And you’re not like all the other Vampires, either,” says Zach, standing. Chris can see the pleading in the Were’s eyes, but it’s too much. He’s only known Zach since that fateful Sunday night, and though he does care about him, a lifetime of servitude has never been one of Chris’s life goals.

“Do you really understand what I’d be giving up?”

“The fear of us on a full moon? Being treated like scum, sleeping in the sewer?”

“I don’t sleep in the sewer,” says Chris, miffed that Zach’s starting to make assumptions. “I’ve been around long enough to make a comfortable life. I don’t need complications. I stay away from you guys and I don’t cause trouble.”

For a moment Zach doesn’t say anything, but he’s obviously upset. Did he really expect Chris would jump at the chance to wipe a Were’s ass for the rest of his life?

“Well, I’m sure I’ll find one eventually,” says Zach with an air of wistfulness to disguise the bitter note Chris can hear loud and clear.

“Don’t leave it too long,” says Chris, annoyed that whatever they had between them, if it was in fact anything, has been snuffed out. But this is for the best, and the last thing he needs is to be baby-sitting a Were. “It was a pleasure to know you Zach,” he says, waving the book. “And thanks.”

“Oh, no problem,” says Zach, heading to open the door; still the gracious host. “Thank you, again. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Maybe stay indoors until you get that Imus,” Chris says. Harold is weaving between his legs again. “I’ll miss you, too.” He bends to stroke the cat for the last time.

He keeps telling himself on the ride down in the elevator that it’s for the best, and has convinced himself he’s made the right choice when it reaches the ground. By the time he gets home he’s accepted that he won’t see Zach again, but at the same time he’s considering getting a cat. Perhaps a creature that sleeps during the day is a better fit than a dog.

But when he’s lying in his box waiting for sleep, he has to ask himself why his mind won’t let Zach go. Why is he constantly thinking about him? He takes up his cock defiantly, imaging Zach’s hand the way he’d gripped his arm with urgency in the street. He spits in his palm, too far gone to get up and grab the lube, and groans when his palm rubs over the head. The friction is slippery, but it generates a tingle that travels through his pelvis to his balls.

He abandons thoughts of Lucia and Anton. There’s no point trying to get off on their faces when his mind seems determined to only allow him one. He imagines what Zach’s mouth would feel like, what that wicked tongue would do to the underside of his cock as it slowly licked a path up to the ridge, tasting his pre-come before swallowing him down.

“Oh God,” Chris sighs, his hand squeezing hard. He knows Zach would feel a great deal warmer, hot against his chilled skin. His cock engulfed by that beautiful mouth, Chris’s hips buck up into his hand, and pictures Zach’s hair flopping forward as he sucks along Chris’s length.

He gasps when Zach’s lips open and the flash of lengthened canines scraping along his cock makes his heart suddenly seize.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, shivering at the sight of those lethal teeth encasing his most sensitive of parts. He grips his balls, imaging Zach’s lower fangs before he shoots over himself, splashes of his come streaking across his hand and belly.

He’s panting heavily as he recovers, using a discarded shirt that’s hanging off the edge of his box to wipe himself down. When he’s capable of conscious thought Chris fits the lid over his box. Just before he sleeps, a broad smile curves his mouth.

 

Zach finds his new job is more challenging than he’d first anticipated. He has to make many decisions that will ultimately affect the company and though he read the job description thoroughly he can’t help but think he’s landed in a very big pond full of enormous fish, and he’s just a tiny tadpole.

But he’s determined to prove himself, not only to WOLPh management and of course himself, but also his mother.

“If you’re unhappy for any reason, you can always come home,” she’d said. He’s certainly not unhappy, but he’s finding it a little stressful, and his days are full of meetings and reports, and compiling his own presentations on how the company would be better spending its money. His team is fantastic, and he appreciates their contribution to ensure the decisions he makes are informed. 

When Friday arrives he’s almost in shock to think his second week at WOLPh has disappeared, and surely he’s achieved more than what he’s viewing in his calendar. He still needs a new executive assistant but hasn’t got around to viewing the applications that appear in his inbox. The afternoon is threatening to become evening and he leaves his desk tidy, determined to relax over the weekend so he can come back a little more refreshed on Monday.

As always, Noah is very excited to see him home. They have a routine of going for a walk after dinner. After last weekend’s moment of panic, and even the previous weekend’s incident with the twins, Zach refuses to give into his paranoia and has convinced himself that unless he lives his life he won’t have one.

Still without an Imus (he knows he’s procrastinating, and Leonard reiterated how important a decision it was), Zach has arranged to meet Rachel at Elysian Park, with Peter’s consent. He’s been told there are walking trails, and places to throw a ball. He figures he’ll be safe enough with the Vampire, but even so, he takes his crossbow, pleased he’s establishing the habit. He’s getting used to his neighborhood, although the city itself is still a little daunting. He takes Noah in the car, and crosses the city, around the stadium to the smaller parking facilities on the northern side. Noah yanks on the lead, desperate to reach the new smells. Zach is snug inside his coat, the crossbow folded neatly in one of the inside pockets. His breath creates vapor, but his internal combustion keeps him warmer than the average human.

Rachel said she would find him, and they could take a trail through the trees until they find a nice wide clearing. The sun is almost gone, but Zach tosses the ball to Noah a few times and the wolfhound cross goes mad chasing after it.

Zach tenses when he hears a familiar rhythmic thumping.

“Sweet dog.”

He turns and sees Rachel walking up to him. “Hmm, I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” Since he hadn’t told anyone about the incident with the twin Vampires, he expects it to stay unreported. But what he isn’t entirely sure about is whether Vampires have their own code of communication. Do they let each other know things? Do they even protect each other during a full moon?

“I may have been asked to baby-sit, but my foremost priority is to my Dominus,” she says. “And Peter still needed me. Besides, where were you going to go? It’s not like you know anyone here.”

No, apparently Vampires don’t tell each other stuff. “I guess,” Zach says. But he does know people. There’s Leonard, and Zoë who’d taken him to Cerberus, and of course, there’s Chris.

Noah begins following a smell and Zach, without thought, follows after him.

“I hate to do this, but I can only chaperone you and your dog for a while. You should be okay on your own. Vampires don't come here.”

“Oh, okay.” He’s immediately apprehensive. Regardless of Rachel’s nonchalance at leaving him, he’d rather not be left entirely alone. All he wanted was a chance for his cooped-up dog to stretch his legs. Once she leaves, so will he. Then he remembers something, and he can’t help but ask. “What’s it like being owned by a human?” At first he takes her silence for annoyance, that her position is worse than a Vampire who’s owned by a Were.

But then she starts laughing. “Seriously?” she says after a moment. “You’re not asking about the company and what it’s working on, you’re more concerned about my Dominus?”

He’s surprised at her reaction, but defends himself. “You’re the first Imus I’ve met that’s not under the control of a Were. In fact, I think you’re the _only_ Vampire owned by a human.”

“Yes, as far as I’m aware, I am. Honestly, it’s not that big a deal. You guys are only a threat to us on the full moon. Every other day you’re as weak and pathetic as humans are.”

“Excuse me?” he says, affronted by her choice of words.

“Oh, come on,” she says. “You may be able to hear everything, and smell a crap from ten miles away, but your physical strength is equal to a regular everyday human.”

“So what keeps you from eating your human alive?”

“I am extremely well-fed. I don’t need him to feed and I wouldn’t. Peter is a fair Dominus. I often forget he's human because he’s really no different than you Weres—other than the night of a full moon.”

Zach nods, still unconvinced that it’s a good idea, but it’s got him thinking. It’s likely Peter knows more about Were culture and society than he does.

They walk on in silence, Zach keeping an eye on Noah, calling him back whenever he gets too far. He’s not sure if he’s offended Rachel, but since she’s still walking beside him he figures she must be okay. “Can you tell me more about the Imus? As you know I need to have one, but I’m finding the idea…”

“Difficult?” she suggests. “Borderline slavery, really, but it has its perks, and considering the alternative I’d rather be Imus.”

“Yeah, I saw the, um, lab.” The memory of all those sleeping Vampires reminds him that by taking on an Imus, Weres are giving them a second chance; otherwise they’d be doomed to spend countless years in a comatose state. But as Zach imagines what it would be like answering to someone whenever they desired, his mother’s voice reminds him that everyone is equal. The thought leaves his throat dry.

Rachel continues, “An Imus is basically a Were’s bodyguard, but you can command us to do pretty much anything you like. I’ve escorted Peter to a few functions, accompanied him on trips. He’s always mindful of my needs, understands I can’t come into contact with sunlight, and there’s always blood. He never lets me go hungry.”

“Okay, so I get an Imus, then what?” He’s picturing Chris at his side, taking him to corporate events, business trips and the like. He remembers how he said he could force Chris to become his Imus. His stomach twists at the memory. He hopes he’ll get the opportunity to ask for forgiveness.

“Well, once you have one you can do and go wherever you like. As you know WOLPh is a 24/7 set up. If you decide you want to work nine to five, pm to am, then you have your Imus to protect you.”

“What about the other Weres who don’t have an Imus?”

“Well, they’re restricted to the day shift, aren’t they? And like any other human out there, they can choose to take the risk of going out at night. It’s not like there’s a Vampire on every corner. You lot take care of that.” She’s smiling, but he can see she’s watching him warily.

They’re surrounded by trees, and Zach can’t remember which direction to take to get back to his car. They’re not on any of the trails, and there’s thick grass underfoot. The trees make the darkness all the more encroaching.

“Maybe we should head back,” he says, whistling for Noah.

“Sure,” says Rachel and immediately turns in the opposite direction. “Have you got a Kine in mind to turn Imus?”

“No. I can’t get my head around the idea of having that one person there all the time for the rest of my life.”

“It’s awkward at first, but you’ll be surprised at the strength of the loyalty behind it. I would do anything for Peter, it’s almost like an instinct now.”

“Wow, okay, I didn’t know that.”

“It’s one of the many unexplained mysteries of Vampire. The longer a Were and Vampire are together, the stronger the bond between them.”

“But Peter’s a human.”

“Same deal. As I said, it’s a Vampire thing.”

“Who knew?” says Zach, finding the concept incredible. A connection between Weres and Vampires _and_ humans. Even if it’s unconventional and goes against anything he ever really knew, it’s a small detail that gives a little more insight.

“Well, you should be alright from here. I have to go back,” says Rachel, snapping Zach out of his thoughts. “See you.” And before Zach can stop her or ask which way he needs to go, she’s gone in a blur of speed.

“Well, shit,” he says turning left and right, trying to discern which direction the car is in. Noah has gone back to sniffing. “Come on, Noah.” Just before he reaches the dog there’s a small flash in the grass and Noah, with an excited bark, takes off at a phenomenal speed, chasing after what looks like a squirrel. “Noah!” Zach calls, sighing in annoyance before he starts after his dog.

He finally catches Noah after several minutes of chasing and calling. The only thing that stopped him was Zach crash-tackling him to the ground, while the squirrel took off up a tree.

“Damn it, Noah,” he says clipping the lead back on the collar. “Now I really have no idea where we are.”

The trees are blocking his view in every direction and the light has completely gone, leaving him in darkness. His nose is filled with different scents, but he’s capable of finding his own, and figures it will be a means of getting back to the car. He pats his jacket pocket, to reassure himself that he’s armed, and lets out a breath of relief.

It’s the sudden sound of a heartbeat that stops him in his tracks. Rachel. “Thought you had to leave,” he says, but when he turns it isn’t Rachel. The first heartbeat is joined by a second, then a third until the pounding cadence fills his ears. A large man, who Zach has no reservations in believing to be Vampire, steps out from behind a tree. A second appears behind him and is followed by a third. Despite the apparent threat, Zach’s first thought is how odd it is that three Vampires are working together.

“Can I help you?” He knows it’s corny to the point of stupidity, but what else can he do?

They surround him in an instant, forcing him to look around and about to keep them all in view. One holds up a length of chain. It’s short, but made of silver and it will cause him a lot of pain should the Vampire strike him with it. The second has a blade, which Zach also believes is silver, while the third, and biggest of the three, strokes a very nasty looking set of silver-plated brass knuckles. Zach, through the haze of fear and ever mounting panic, almost laughs at the lengths the trio have gone to, to do away with one Were. Three humungous Vampires, all armed with weapons, against one pathetic Were. The word _thugs_ comes to mind, and Zach wonders how his mother ever equated Vampires to being anything like the rest of society.

“Fuck,” he mutters, stifling the chuckle that bubbles in his throat. His heart is racing and his legs are suddenly losing their ability to hold him steady. Noah is going nuts, barking and pulling against the lead, trying to get at the Vampires. With a shaking hand Zach delves into his coat and manages to get a slippery hand around the hilt of his crossbow. He draws it out, aiming it at the Vampire with the chain. He smiles when Zach tries to line up the arrow, and Zach almost smiles back. There are three of them and one arrow in the crossbow. “Shit.”

He yanks at Noah’s lead, trying to pull him closer as well as shut him up. “I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve by killing me,” he says, his voice threatening to crack. “You know my death will be avenged if you do.”

“I’m really not bothered,” says the Vampire with the chain. “They’ll be lucky to find anything of you once we’re through. I haven’t fed in a very long time.”

Zach takes a breath, though it’s a struggle, and tries to move legs that seem to have fused to the ground. Noah’s lead has wrapped around them in his effort to control the dog, and Noah is persistently barking at each Vampire in turn.

Unable to keep all three in his sight line, Zach panics when one of them moves, and accidentally fires the arrow. It strikes the trunk of a tree without so much as a quiver as the force of the shot buries its head deep into the bark.

The immediate threat now gone, the first Vampire comes forward, swinging his chain.

“Oh, God,” Zach says. “Rachel!” He’s not sure if she’s even close enough to hear his call, but as the Vampires close in he just keeps screaming her name.

Zach trips on Noah’s lead, landing heavily on his back. “Oh, shit!” He holds up his arms, covering his face as the chain swings down, striking him across his hands and forearms. Aside from the pain of the hard metal bruising his flesh, the silver burns into him, opening the skin on his hands.

Zach cries out, trying to fend off the blows with raw and bleeding palms. He’s hit in the forehead and has trouble keeping his eyes open as his vision goes fuzzy. A sudden sharp pain sears across his side. His coat has fallen open and the knife-wielding Vampire is scoring deep cuts into his skin, his shirt a tattered mess. The silver in the knife sizzles against his skin and a whole new round of ever-increasing pain dances over his body.

He doesn’t see the punch coming but he feels it connect with his side as the air in his lungs whooshes out. He’s left gasping as a blast of white-hot pain sears into his flank.

He tries to curl into a ball while the chain keeps hitting, and the knife continues to cut, but a second punch to his gut helps since his body instinctively curls in on itself. He gets his arm up over his face, which he knows is covered with the blood of his hands. The knife has made headway down his side and back. He thinks he’s hearing things when a roar rings out, and the Vampire with the chain suddenly stops pummeling him. The knife stops next, and he’s not even sure what happens to the one with the brass knuckles.

He can hear flesh hitting flesh and the grunting of someone exerting great force. There’s a thump, and Zach manages to open his eyes a crack to see one of the Vampires lying motionless. _Thank God, Rachel came back_ , he thinks. He lets his eyes shut again, and darkness closes over him.

 

***

 

By Friday night Chris’s routine has gone relatively back to normal, except for the fact that he doesn’t have a job. He hasn’t heard from Simon and figures his old manager is probably pissed at him for leaving without any notice. It’s fair enough really. Did he honestly expect a ‘hi, how are you?’ when he’d left Simon without a night shift?

So Chris indulges in one of his favorite pastimes. The winter nights have been clear and Elysian Park is close enough to his home with the added bonus of creating an ideal atmosphere away from the bright city lights. He carries a long box with a convenient handle. Its edges are reinforced with metal and it has three clips to keep it closed.

He stops, ducking behind one of the larger trees when he sees a group of people laughing and drinking as they walk through the park. They appear to be in their early twenties, and the girls are laughing as the guys swing them up into their arms or chase them around each other. Humans. Chris smiles as he watches their antics, and feels the prickle of a memory across the back of his neck.

Patrick had always been stronger, as he was the elder, and when they were alone his hands could be roughly demanding or sweetly gentle to bring about Chris’s climax. Chris suddenly finds himself thinking about Zach’s hands, and wonders how the Were’s natural warmth would feel on his chilled skin. His dick gives a twitch, and he blinks himself out of his daydream. _Crazy_ , he thinks to himself.

His instincts have fired up, and his body reacts to the closeness of his prey, but he learned long ago to control his need. The group passes without a clue as to the potential danger lurking in the shadows. He walks for another half hour to reach his preferred spot away from lights and in a clearing that rises slightly, giving the perfect location for stargazing. Kneeling, Chris opens the box, and carefully lifts out a tripod, which he assembles. Once it’s firmly on the ground, he takes out a long, black telescope.

The process of mapping the stars pleases him with the methodical, systematic way in which the telescope needs to move and the method with which he plots them. But tonight he’s after a particular annual event. The Leonids Meteor shower occurs every November, and it’s this event that Chris has set up his telescope to see. The sky needs to be darker, so he takes his time setting up a camera so he can photograph the meteors when they hit the atmosphere.

Once finished, he pulls out a small fold-up stool and sits, looking into the eyepiece. He takes several shots, thrilled at the splendor, and contemplates viewing Jupiter when a terrible scream cuts through the stillness.

It’s a Vampire feeding, and the idiot clearly wasn’t careful enough to ensure his victim remained quiet. Remembering the group of young people, Chris imagines their laughing, smiling faces masked in terror and fear.

He immediately leaves his gear and races towards the sound, zipping between the trees like they‘re mere reeds. He stops when he sees a group of three Vampires beating the shit out of someone on the ground.

With a roar, Chris grabs the Vampire using a length of chain like a whip, and sends him head first into a tree. The tree nearly splits, but holds, the bark splintering around the impact site. The Vampire, his neck twisted, falls to the ground. Chris grabs the Vampire with a knife, hauling the guy by the wrist towards him and jamming the knife into his belly with the momentum. The Vampire sags, pulling the blade from his own stomach, as he bleeds profusely.

The Vampire who has a set of brass knuckles decides to take on the new threat by swinging them at Chris’s head. Chris twists out of the way, but is jerked back by the second punch that catches him in the jaw. It sends him flying, and he hits the ground, sprawling across the grass. He sees the Vampire coming after him, and he jumps to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. He jams his right fist into the Vampire’s solar plexus, and gives a follow through punch with the left into the guy’s cheek. It takes him down, but only to his knees. Chris squares his feet before spinning on one to bring the other foot around, slamming it into the Vampire’s head and snapping his neck with the force.

He falls like a tree, crashing to the ground with a heavy thump. The Vampire with the knife has almost healed now, so Chris makes short work of him by breaking his neck before he has a chance to raise the weapon.

His own bruises have fully healed by the time he reaches the victim. “Hey,” he says, kneeling beside him. The guy’s arm is over his face, and Chris carefully moves him, turning him so he’s on his back. “Aw, fuck,” he breathes. “Zach, man, the fuck are you doing out here? Alone? _Again?_ ” Zach’s in pretty bad shape. His body is a mass of bloody cuts, bruises and savagely deep wounds. Chris finds it odd that the Vampires appeared to have no intention of feeding; they just wanted to beat Zach to a pulp. He doesn’t want to think what their ultimate goal was, and what might have happened had he come any later, or not at all.

He strokes the Were’s blood-matted hair, carefully tilting his head so his mouth is forced open. A whimper comes from behind a tree and he looks up to see Noah, limping badly, with his lead trailing behind.

“Jesus, buddy,” he says and at his voice Noah tries to walk faster. “Easy there Noah, it’s okay. What happened, dude? What on earth brought you two out here?” He strokes the dog’s head and ears. Noah is favoring one of his front paws, keeping it off the ground entirely. “Okay, let’s fix Zach, then I’ll see about you.” Chris bites into his forearm, deep into the veins so there’s a strong flow. He holds it over Zach’s mouth as he squeezes his fist, hoping enough gets down the Were’s throat since he’s incapable of swallowing. Zach twitches, and Chris moves his arm, letting Noah lick at it as well before it closes over. He’s never treated a dog before, but he figures it should have the same healing result as with anything living.

Zach groans, and Chris watches the cuts and bruises fade. Before he retracts his fangs, Chris considers whether he should help blot out the memory of the traumatic night. Like the bite Zach received from the twins, Chris’s saliva when his fangs are out contains a narcotic. He’s not going to bite Zach, but there is another option.

He settles his lips over Zach’s mouth, kissing the Were intently as he slides his tongue past Zach’s lips. After a moment Zach responds, and though Chris knows he should stop, he really doesn’t want to. He pulls up just as Zach’s eyes flutter open, and the last of the deeper cuts close over.

“Hey, man,” says Chris gently.

Zach gasps, and Chris wonders if the Were will ever be comfortable around him. “Chris,” he says, his voice a whisper. “What happened?” He tries to sit up, and Chris puts an arm around him, helping to keep him steady. The narcotic should have taken the worst, leaving Zach with a vague memory that something bad happened without the horrific detail. PG rated, rather than NC-17.

“Well, I found you getting the stuffing belted out of you by these three,” he says indicating the Vampires in varying stages of healing. “This is becoming a habit, dude.”

“I seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Zach licks his lips and Chris sees he’s trying to recall something.

“Or being targeted,” says Chris, and looks at Zach worriedly. He hadn’t meant to voice his thoughts.

“Why would I be targeted? I haven’t done anything,” says Zach. Chris helps him to stand, catching him when he sways a little. “I’m okay, just confused.”

“I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has encountered Vampires in the same capacity as you have, and lived in both cases.”

“I get the feeling LA is telling me to go home.”

“Well, I think you should go home to your apartment, and stay there until you get a fucking Imus.”

“Yeah, that would be good idea. I’ll just stick to daylight until I choose one.”

Chris gets Zach into the car and once Noah is in the back seat, tells Zach to keep it locked until he gets back. A few minutes later he has his telescope case and stows it in the trunk before getting in behind the wheel.

“What were _you_ doing in the park?” asks Zach as Chris pulls out of the car park.

“Watching the meteor shower. I was about to view Jupiter when I heard…” He pauses. “Jupiter can look amazing at this time of year.”

“You’re into astronomy?”

“What else can a Vampire do? And besides, it’s fun.”

“I wouldn’t know,” says Zach. Chris sees him lean back in the seat and close his eyes, his tongue once again exploring his lips as his brows draw together. Noah, his shaggy head poised between the two front seats, has healed beautifully. He nudges Chris’s arm and the Vampire rewards him with a pat. “Thank you,” says Zach, though his eyes remain closed. “Again. For coming to my rescue.”

Chris can hear a tinge of bitterness, but he doesn’t think it’s from forced gratitude, more likely the situation the Were has again found himself in. “You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t thought he’d find himself in Zach’s apartment again. But Zach insists and so Chris goes up in the elevator and again sees the expanse of white that is Zach’s home. Zach changes in the bathroom, a pair of long-legged gray track pants and a t-shirt.

“I’m thinking of leaving,” says Zach. “I don’t think I’m cut out for a life here.”

“Wow,” says Chris. “Really? You’re going to give up?”

“What choice do I have? I’ve almost been killed twice, and _would_ have been if it weren’t for you.” He slumps on the sofa.

Chris sits, unsure if he should leave Zach alone. “But you have a great job, and LA really is a beautiful city.”

“Well,” says Zach, giving Chris a sardonic look, “I’ve yet to see it.”

And Chris is suddenly hit with inspiration. “How about I show you? I could escort you about the city, at night, wherever you like!”

Zach sits up straighter and Chris can see him thinking it over. “You would do that for me?”

“Why not? I just can’t do Saturdays.”

“Is that the Vampire Sabbath?”

“Hardly,” says Chris. “That’s the night I feed,” he adds, a little more sheepishly.

“Oh,” says Zach, looking away. “Well, that’s okay, I think. I mean, I don’t see you as the type to go sucking people dry and all.”

“I don’t,” says Chris. “I gain consent before I bite.”

Zach’s expression changes, and he looks as though he’s about to say something, but changes his mind and instead says, “I don’t know how that’s even possible, but I’m actually very relieved to hear it.”

“I go to a kink club, it’s called Bar Sinister. The people who come to me want to be bitten. It turns them on, so to speak.”

“Huh,” huffs Zach. “Considering this city, I shouldn’t be surprised. Of _course_ LA has the ability to accommodate Vampires.”

“You have my number, so whenever you want to go out, give me a shout and I’ll be right over. I can show you vivid nightlife, but I’ll leave your Were colleagues to show you the delights of day.”

“Done,” says Zach. “By the way, I owe you an apology. I could blame my lack of Were-smarts, but what I asked of you was completely out of line.”

“An apology?” This has to be a first. Weres _never_ apologize to Vampires.

“I brought up the fact that I could force you to become my Imus. That was really appalling behavior on my part and I want you to know I’m truly sorry for having even tried it.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Jesus, I’ve had worse.”

“That’s my point. You shouldn’t have to deal with worse, or bad or anything.”

“It’s cool,” says Chris, smiling so Zach understands. “You have nothing to worry about, we’re okay.”

“Thanks,” says Zach, but Chris can still see the regret in the Were’s eyes.

After their goodbyes, Chris wanders home, still shocked by the whole apology thing. He’s pretty sure it’s a first and—given how long he’s been alive—firsts are an extremely rare event. His smile doesn’t waver, and his heart thumps a little faster when he sees Zach’s face in his mind again as he succumbs to sleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris does Zach a favor, but has to think twice when it seems trouble follows Zach everywhere. Maybe there's more to it than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: gore and violence, pegging, consensual painful sex.
> 
> Although I have been posting weekly like I hoped, my family and work commitments have increased recently, not to mention laptop viruses and technical issues! So my sincere apologies, but I'm going to have to change to fortnightly updates.

Chris’s fangs plunge into the proffered neck of a woman, who asked him before they started if he minded her screaming as he did so.  He was happy to oblige, but is regretting his decision now, as her piercing shriek courses up his spine. She screams throughout, and he has to let her go after only a few gulps because he simply can’t take the noise anymore.

“Oh, God,” she sighs, leaning against him. “It feels so real.”

He’s not sure what she means. Of course it’s real, he’s biting into her neck; but he just smiles as he heals her, and shows her to the door.

“Hi, Chris.” It’s Anton, barely giving the woman room to leave as he walks straight in.

“Hey, Anton,” says Chris. “Guess I really did make an impression.”

Anton keeps walking forward, and Chris has no choice but to step back until his legs hit the coffee table. “I came to tell you,” says Anton, and Chris can see he’s having trouble verbalizing whatever it is that’s on his mind. Seems his bold entrance used up all his courage.

“Did you want me to bite you?” Chris asks.

“Yes,” says Anton, with an audible sigh of relief. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I _can’t_ stop thinking about it.”

“I’m actually surprised to see you. Most people take a little longer to get used to, well, me.”

“Not me,” says Anton, coming closer if it’s at all possible.

“Okay,” says Chris, “How would you like to—” He’s cut off by Anton’s lips pressed firmly against his own. He responds, since it’s not unusual for his clients to enjoy a side of passion with their preferred kink. Anton pulls at Chris’s shirt and fly before Chris grabs his wrist. “Whoa, easy there dude. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“You,” says Anton. “I want you. I want to be like you and be with you. I want to be a Vampire and we can be together.”

“Jesus, Anton, we only met last week!”

“You’re all I’ve thought about. I told Freda, but she said it was just a crush, that I was idolizing the thing I’ve been worshipping forever.”

“Well—”

“I’m not,” he says indignantly. “I love you, Chris. I want you to turn me into a Vampire.” He pulls out a long rolled-up tube, unfurls it and holds it up to Chris.

“Oh, God,” Chris breathes. It’s a painting, a watercolor he thinks, of him. Anton’s taken every fantasy and personified it with Chris’s face. Aside from the fact that Chris feels a little bit creeped out by it, he has to admit Anton is really good. It’s very similar to the paintings he sees adorning the covers of fantasy novels and gaming posters. He’s standing on a mound of skulls in boots that have sharp spikes over the toes. He’s dressed in what looks like futuristic armor, all grey and black with a long black cape that’s caught by the wind, so it fans out to one side.

It’s been centuries since Chris last held a sword, but he’s certainly never held one that looks like this one. Deadly, serrated edges and at a size even _he’d_ have trouble holding. Anton’s done a brilliant job of capturing his face. His fangs are out, bloodied of course, and his eyes are striking crimson red. But he’s gone ahead and lengthened Chris’s hair giving the painting an almost romantic feel.

“Wow,” says Chris.

“You like it?” says Anton, his eyes full of hope.

“It’s really good, Anton.”

“I did it for you, to hang in here.”

“Oh,” says Chris and passes a hand over his mouth, as he tries to think of a tactful response. But before he gets a chance Anton tries to kiss him again. Chris pulls back, holding Anton by the shoulders to keep the distance between them. The painting falls from his hand and curls on itself again, rolling away and resting against the wall.

“Let’s sit,” says Chris. Anton obeys and sits next to him on the lounge. “Anton, I’m very flattered by this, but come on, we can’t be together. Trust me, you don’t want the life of a Vampire.”

“Yes I do!” says Anton, his voice rising. “Don’t tell me what I want; you don’t know what I want.”

“Alright,” says Chris, hoping to try a different route. “Would you be happy to see your family and friends grow old and die, to hide in drains and sewers and never go out in the sun, and try not to be killed every full moon?”

“Every full moon?”

Chris nods, “Yup, that’s when the Werewolves come out and kill guys like me.”

“Holy shit,” says Anton. “There’s Werewolves?”

“Yes, and for someone as kind and thoughtful as you, I can’t give you a life that could ultimately mean your death.”

“Oh,” he says, and Chris can see his expression change as he considers what it would truly mean to be Vampire.

“And promise me you’re not going to go looking for another Vampire. Seriously, it takes more than just being bitten to be turned.”

Anton’s eyes indicate this exact intention, but Chris raises an eyebrow in anticipation.

“I promise,” Anton mumbles.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Anton. Please don’t disappoint me.”

“But _you’re_ still alive,” he says, trying a different tactic.

“I’ve lived long enough to know how to stay that way. A newbie Vampire these days has very little chance of survival.”

“Wouldn’t we be a couple?”

“No, Anton,” says Chris gently. “The process of turning changes you. I doubt you would want to be anywhere near me if you knew.”

“Oh. Was it bad for you, your turning, I mean?”

“Let’s just say it was a time in my life I’d rather never have happened, but since it did, I do my best not to think about.” He sees sympathy in Anton’s eyes and it’s the last thing he wants. “It was a very long time ago.”

“How old _are_ you?”

“Old enough to tell you to respect your elders.”

Anton grins when he sees Chris isn’t really telling him off, but Chris isn’t giving him his age either.

“So, if you still want to see me, I’m happy enough to bite you,” says Chris, a hand on Anton’s thigh. “And we can even make it fun. But I don’t want to hear any more talk about you wanting to become Vampire, okay? I care about you Anton, and I’d be devastated to find out something terrible had happened.”

“Okay,” says Anton and though Chris can hear the dejection, he knows it’s for the kid’s own good. “Can you make me come again, like last time?”

“If that’s what you’d like; of course.”

“Would—” He pauses, but Chris waits patiently. “Would you fuck me?”

Chris licks his lip. “No, Anton, I won’t.”

“I have protection.”

“It’s not that. You won’t catch anything from me, nor I from you, but I just don’t go that far with clients, okay?” Lucia’s another story. She’s there for _his_ fantasy.

“Oh, sure,” says Anton and Chris can really hear the disappointment.

“Let’s just get comfortable and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget about wanting to be a Vampire.”

“I doubt it.” Anton looks away, his eyes obstinate, but Chris takes his chin and pulls him back.

“Let’s try anyway.”

Chris gives Anton a phenomenal orgasm after blowing him. He bites into Anton’s thigh this time, and the kid is gasping and moaning as he watches, leaning up on his elbows. His come splashes across his naked stomach, as Chris draws on the femoral artery at Anton’s inner thigh.

“Jesus,” sighs Anton. He shudders visibly and it’s strong enough for Chris to feel reverberate under the kid’s skin. Chris is pleased he’s made Anton feel so good, and he goes to heal the bite, but Anton catches his wrist. “Leave it,” he says.

Chris licks away the last of the blood, and tucks his fangs away, running his tongue over his lips to wipe away the remnants of his meal. “As you wish,” he says, but he’s apprehensive at leaving Anton with a trophy that will only give credence to his already obsessive crush. He should probably tell Anton not to come anymore, for Anton’s sake more than his own. Nothing good will come of it. But he’s not in the mood to break the kid’s heart just yet. He’ll have to soon, but not tonight. 

He graciously accepts the painting, and wonders if maybe it would in fact help with his clients. Sure, the scene is over the top, but he sees the potential in selling the fantasy. Most of the patrons downstairs are into this sort of thing, so it couldn’t hurt to have it on the wall.

Lucia agrees, when she comes up to see him. He usually takes a week or two break, as her style of play is quite intense, but after the encounter with Anton he feels a little bad. He knows he’ll be doing the kid a favor, but no one likes rejection. Anton’s admiration gives him a sense of superiority he doesn’t feel he deserves. He wants to be put in his place and made to feel small again. To help, Lucia does for him what he rarely asks, but she’s always happy to indulge.

“Hey, baby,” she says, locking the door as she enters. “You need me?” She’s a different person in this room compared to the woman that jokes and laughs with her customers on the lower floor.

“Yeah,” he says. Her mere presence in this room begins the process; he can feel his insignificance in her glorious splendor. She’s wearing a black PVC cat-suit, complete with tail. Her hair is pinned back where she has two black velvet ears on a headband. Her eyes, however, are quite remarkable: a loud yellowy orange with a slit pupil.

“Hmm,” she purrs. “Well, I’m gonna make you feel good while you feel bad.”

She makes him bleed as she bites into his neck with her fake canines, whilst fucking into him with a lubed-up strap on. She takes him from behind, holding him to her breasts as her teeth sink into his flesh. His blood runs in rivulets down his chest as he strokes his hard cock. In his own mind, though he’d never admit to it, he pretends Lucia is Zach.

“Your blood tastes so good,” she croons in his ear, yanking his head to the side by his hair so she can lick at his neck. He heals so quickly, but he knows Lucia enjoys the bite as much as she loves his blood. He grunts when her fangs stab into him, but he needs the pain to help him feel weak. The cock in his ass gives the same sensation, except the pain is turning into blissful pleasure, much to his own shame. Dominated and overpowered, useless in defending himself, just like he was as a human.

Like a Werewolf with a Vampire on the night of the full moon.

She bites into him again. She doesn’t let him come until she has, twice, and he cries out in pain, pleasure rolling through him. Panting, he enables her to withdraw and clings to the humiliation that drapes over him. Lucia unbuckles the strap-on and wiggles it off her hips. She’s still in her cat-suit, though she re-zips, which adds to Chris’s indignity since he’s entirely naked.

“That was fantastic,” she says, grabbing his jaw so her long nails dig into his cheeks. She kisses his mouth aggressively then jerks him away when she feels him respond. But the next moment she’s looking into his eyes, and he begins to think he knows how a mouse feels when cornered by a cat. “You okay in there, sweetheart? Tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine Lucia. You give me what I need,” he says, knowing it’s always hard for her to leave him after an intense scene without proper care. He insisted from the start that he wouldn’t accept it, _couldn’t_ , because it’s part of his process to try and absolve himself for what he does. For what he is.

She strokes his hair and presses a soft, kind kiss to his mouth. “See you next week, okay? Be good.” She kisses his forehead and leaves him to clean up and dress, and he takes his time straightening the room. His wounds are completely healed and even her rough treatment of his ass has left no lasting feeling. He sometimes wishes he could have some sort of memento, a small ache or scar to remind him that he was once a fragile creature.

When Sunday night arrives, he’s about to settle into a dull and uneventful night when his phone buzzes. It’s a call from Zach.

“Zach?” he answers.

“Hey, Chris,” says Zach. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I wondered, if you’re not busy that is, if I could call in that favor. Are you free to go out tonight?”

“Oh,” says Chris, a little startled, but also thrilled that he’s called. He knows it’s foolish, but a Vampire can’t help his fantasies, and it would be nice to see the guy without having to repeatedly heal him. For once it’s nice to be treated like an equal. “I guess I’m not doing anything that can’t be postponed,” he says, not wanting to sound too eager. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m going a little stir crazy here, I kind of hoped you would make good with that promise and show me some of the sights. I don’t need to go into work early tomorrow, and I really need to get out tonight. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” says Chris. “Was there anywhere you particularly wanted to go?”

“No, I’m still finding my way around; whatever you suggest will be fine, just as long as I can leave this goddamn apartment.”

Chris chuckles, “I hear you, not a problem. I’ll be over soon.”

Going out on a Sunday night isn’t very popular, with Monday morning coming along a bit too quickly. But Chris, with his knowledge of the city and being restricted to nighttime activities, knows the perfect place to go.

“A Lakers game?” says Zach, once Chris has turned up.

“Absolutely. Didn’t you go see the basketball in Pittsburgh?”

“Not really.”

“Dude!” exclaims Chris. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the Lakers.”

“Okay.”

“They’re playing the Toronto Raptors, it’ll be killer,” he says, thumping Zach on the arm in his excitement.

“Well, I wanted to go out, and you’re taking me. Let’s do this.”

Chris directs Zach as they drive to the Staples Centre, home arena of the Lakers, and they manage to get decent seats even though, it’s the freaking Lakers, man! Chris insists Zach indulge in a hotdog and beer, though he can tell the Were is uncomfortable eating in front of him.

The game starts and Chris excitedly cheers as the ball flies across the court between the two teams. When the Lakers shoot a goal he squeezes Zach’s arm; when the Raptors score, he boos. It’s been a while since he’s watched them live. He finds it embarrassing coming along alone. He makes comments during play and enjoys Zach’s opinions as they share the game.

During half time, they watch the cheerleaders. Though Chris appreciates their skill, he prefers to look at Zach.

“Can you recommend any good car dealers around here?” says Zach suddenly.

“You want to buy a car?”

“Yeah, I need to take the rental back.”

“There are several car yards near—” Chris stops. He was about to say ‘near my place’, which he’s kept hidden from both Weres and humans. He doesn’t want to make his home, his sanctuary, known—not to Zach. Not yet. “Near…where you are,” he amends. He’s not lying. LA is littered with car sale yards. “New or used?”

“Oh it’ll be new, that’s for damn sure,” says Zach. “For years I had to borrow Mom’s until I moved out, then it was the bus until I moved in with Matt, and even then the car was his, and he only let me drive to work occasionally or when he was completely incapacitated.”

“Ah,” Chris begins, remembering the drive in the rental after he’d rescued Zach from the twins. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, but he would certainly like to know how it feels to own a brand new car. “So I’m guessing you two didn’t exactly part on very good terms.”

“No,” says Zach, and Chris thinks that’ll be the end of it, but Zach keeps talking. “I learned a lot about a man I realized I knew nothing about in those last few weeks, all because I’d accepted a job that I thought was a great career move. He never congratulated me, never told me he was proud of me, nothing. I thought it was something we could figure out, and try to make it work together.”

Chris isn’t sure if he should be hearing Zach bitch about his ex, but clearly the Were needs to talk. “Maybe he had his reasons,” Chris suggests, not wanting to assume that Zach’s side was blameless.

“That’s the part I never understood. If he had reasons, he didn’t tell them to me.”

“Perhaps it hurt too much,” says Chris. He’s worried he’ll only get Zach angry, but he’s feeling bad that Zach left Pittsburgh with a bitterness he couldn’t sweeten.

“I really don’t know, but he never fought for me, not once. After the first couple of arguments I realized everything he said was about him, and how it was affecting him. And it wasn’t the usual, ‘how can I live without you’ kind of stuff you see in the movies. It was more, what will I tell Sam and Kath, and who’s going to help with the rent?”

“I’m sorry, man,” says Chris. He can’t offer a solution, he only knows it’ll eventually get better, but it’ll take a while before Zach gets there. Time: it’s the one thing Chris has always been certain of.

“It’s okay. I’m trying to tell myself it’s for the better, but I miss him, even if he did turn into an obnoxious dick.”

“I know what you mean. There are people I miss everyday.”

Zach looks at him and Chris can see the curiosity. “How old—”

“Don’t bother asking, because I’m not telling. Just know that I’ve known a lot of people, both Vampire and human, and I’ve seen them die from old age, altercations with other Vampires, the sun and, of course, Werewolves.”

Zach bites his lower lip, staring at the empty beer cup as he turns it between his hands. The pause lasts a moment more. “Not even a hint?” he says his eyes never leaving the cup.

Chris gives him a shove and the melancholic moment dissipates as the players once again run onto the court.

After the game, which the Lakers won by five points, Zach drives back to his apartment and though he tries to cajole Chris into coming up, Chris declines.

“I’m sorry for all your losses,” says Zach standing at the elevator. “I don’t mean to make it seem so trivial. I just, I don’t know, felt it needed to be said.”

“It’s okay Zach,” says Chris. He’s touched by the Were’s second apology. Have the planets aligned? “Hey, I’m sorry for yours. He might have been a great guy, but he sounds like a dick. I hope your next choice is a better one.”

“Yeah, you and me both.”

Chris leaves with a smile on his face, and his mind full of impossible ‘what if’ questions.

 

Zach wakes mid-afternoon the next day. He showers and dresses, ready for work when his phone goes off. When he sees the text is from Jacob, he immediately sits up, panic setting in. Has he misunderstood? Was he due in at the office this morning?

Though urgent, it’s not giving him a dressing down. It’s informing all executive level staff about an important teleconference with international suppliers, scheduled for that evening.

_Bring along Imus as escort_.

Zach reads the text twice. The meeting is scheduled for seven that evening. He figures with drive times he’ll leave here a bit after six. But he’s apprehensive. He doesn’t have an Imus yet, and depending on how late the meeting goes Zach might find himself out and alone in the middle of the night. Though he’ll be in his car, he can’t assume that will keep him safe. After his two experiences with the Vampire attacks, he’s beginning to think he’s having a very poor streak of luck.

_Or being targeted._

As Chris’s words resound in his mind, he figures there’s only one thing for it.

“Hi Chris,” he says in answer to Chris’s voicemail message. “Look, I know this is really pushing the friendship, but I have no one else I can ask. I totally understand if you refuse—hell, I would too.” He sighs. This could seriously backfire. “Look, man, I know you don’t owe me shit, and like I said, you have every right to refuse, but I have this meeting at work tonight, which means I have to be out and about, at night. If you’re not busy, I could use your help. I just need you to be my Imus for tonight. I realize this would constitute a serious favor, but considering I owe you pretty much everything, including my first born, I figure I have little left to lose. Anyway, call me.”

He disconnects and tosses the phone onto the coffee table. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Chris refuses, because he _has_ to go to WOLPh. There’s little point in driving into work now since he’ll have to return should Chris accept. He eats and takes Noah for a walk, and by the time he’s finished doing a few other menial chores the sun is setting. The instant it’s below the horizon his phone buzzes.

“Zach here,” he says.

“You’re seriously asking me to go into the lion’s den?”

“Well, technically the Wolves’ Den, but it isn’t a den, it’s a corporation.”

“Jesus, dude. So if I go, I could find myself neck deep in shit, and if I _don’t_ go I could find _you_ in the same level of shit.”

“Um, yes?” says Zach.

“Christ, Zach, what choice do I have? I can’t let you go out by yourself. Given your history you’ll be Vampire fodder the instant you walk out the door!”

“Yeah,” says Zach with a nervous chuckle. “Believe me when I say I’d rather not have that hanging over my head.”

“So there’ll be other Vampires there? Other Imus?”

“It’s a meeting for all upper management. They’ll have their Imus; it’s expected.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, I must be completely insane, but maybe I can just hang in there. If I sense any trouble, I’m outta there.”

“Understood.”

“Is there a dress code?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll be at yours in a moment,” says Chris, before hanging up. Zach notes the Vampire didn’t offer a goodbye, but really he has no right to start demanding manners. He owes Chris his life, twice over.

Zach’s phone goes off again and this time it’s Leonard calling.

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes, Zach,” says Leonard sounding as though he’s part way through another conversation when Zach answered. “About tonight; have you selected an Imus? I understand it can be a lengthy process, but I need you here tonight. This meeting is crucial. I can send an escort if necessary.”

“I—I’ve got a Vampire to accompany me,” says Zach. He wishes he’d known an escort was available, and then he wouldn’t have troubled Chris. But he can’t help the tiny thrill that he gets to see the Vampire again, whatever the excuse.

“Oh good, excellent, glad that’s been sorted, congratulations then.” Zach hears the phone go muffled but he can clearly hear Leonard saying, “He’s got one.” Zach isn’t sure to whom Leonard would be talking, but he’s back on the phone again. “We’ll see you soon then, and you can introduce us.”

“Of course, see you shortly.” Zach puffs out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. At least Chris is expected, even if he isn’t exactly…official.

The doorbell sounds a few seconds after his call with Leonard. Zach opens it, gawping until Chris pushes passed him to get inside. Chris is dressed in a shirt, pressed trousers and shiny black shoes. He’s got a blue striped tie around his neck, but it’s loose, with the top button of his shirt undone, and in spite of the cold weather, his sleeves are rolled up. He looks like a sexy stockbroker.

“This do?” asks Chris, twirling.

“Perfect,” says Zach, and bites his lip when he realizes he’s not referring to the work attire.

 

On the drive to WOLPh, Chris finds himself again wondering what the fuck he’s doing, and is he asking for a more permanent death? A building full of Werewolves is not where he’d envisioned spending his night, but after he’d listened to Zach’s message he knew he had little choice. Chris is certain now that the attacks are not random, and he’s not about to see if third time’s the charm. Letting the Were walk straight into danger simply because Chris doesn’t want to mingle with a few execs would have made him hate himself if anything were to happen. He’s not keeping score. He’d save Zach over and over again if that’s what it took, and he’d rather be there than not.

Chris can see Zach is worried, and his own silence as he drifts through his thoughts probably isn’t helping.

“I’m really sorry about this,” says Zach.

“I wouldn’t be here if it was a problem.” Chris is beginning to think that Zach could ask him to walk out into the sunlight and he’d do it.

“There won’t be any trouble, my boss is expecting you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and the other Imus will be there.”

“So you’d like me to play nicely with the other children?” asks Chris, putting on a sweet voice that makes him sound like Elmer Fudd’s sister.

“If I didn’t need you…” Zach stalls. “Then you wouldn’t be here. I have no right to ask anything of you, Chris. I’m being completely selfish in this.”

“I would rather you called on me than went out into the city by yourself. Honestly, man I don’t really trust anyone to protect you. I could probably take the entire room before you even got to sit down.” He needs to reassure himself, and though he knows he’d never do it, he felt it necessary to say out aloud.

“Please don’t. As it is, Leonard offered an escort,” says Zach, glancing out the side window. “It was after I’d called you. I should have said.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got no intention of turning WOLPh into an abattoir. I just want you to know that I could, is all.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could.”

“And like I said, I don’t trust anyone, so it’s probably best that I come with you. At least this way I know you’re safe.”

“Thanks,” says Zach, and this time he does look at Chris.

Chris has never been inside the Pacific Electric Building. He knows the Weres took it over sometime in the 1920’s or 30’s when they controlled the streetcars, but with the increase of private car ownership, streetcars diminished until they stopped entirely, and by the time Chris had made Los Angeles home, the building had been repurposed and became the new head office for WOLPh.

The voice at the security gate had been thorough in his questioning of Zach about the Vampire in his front seat. They can tell he’s Vampire? Chris almost leaned across to say there’d been a terrible mistake and he would take his leave now before stepping from the car and sprinting fast as fuck back to his locker. 

Zach parks in his customary spot and turns to Chris. “You have to control your nerves, dude, or the whole building will hear you. Even the humans.”

Chris clutches his shirt, where his heart is trying to thump through his ribs. It’s racing so hard he’s wondering if the entire building can’t already hear it.

“Yeah, okay,” he says between a few deep breaths. “I got this, let’s just do it.” His mouth is dry, and his hands won’t stop clenching as he follows Zach to the elevator, and Zach uses his pass to admit them. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” he murmurs. The elevator lets them out, and for a moment his fear is forgotten when he’s struck by the décor of the foyer. “Oh wow, you guys did a good job.”

“Um, thanks,” says Zach.

The foyer is still busy and the lights are bright enough to eliminate the night sky outside. Zach takes Chris to the reception desk that is still staffed, but with fewer people.

“I’m not sure what happens to my, um,” Zach hesitates, “Imus.”

“Name?” asks the receptionist, a balding man with a trim moustache.

“Zachary Quinto.”

After typing his name, the man looks at Zach. “It says here, Mr Quinto, that you haven’t attended the necessary training course.”

“Oh. I’m new to the role and I wasn’t aware I had to attend any training.”

“You didn’t receive the email?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Chris can tell Zach is getting flustered.

“Well, for the most part, he’s to stay with you at all times when you’re out at night. He must accompany you through all security points, and under no circumstances is he allowed to have free access to the building.”

“Right,” says Zach, sounding admonished, though the look he’s giving says otherwise. “I think we can handle that. Thank you.”

“Wow,” says Chris, after they’ve walked away. “Wasn’t he friendly?”

“Asshole,” Zach says under his breath as he leads Chris to the security gates.

Chris keeps close behind the Were. He expects someone to point and say he’s not Imus, but no one pays them any attention, which is comforting and allows him to relax a little. They enter the elevator, but Chris can see Zach is still angry about the receptionist’s behavior. Even so, the Were gives him a look of reassurance before they exit. They disembark at the ninth floor, and are immediately met by a glass door, behind which sits a desk with a young man in a pinstriped suit. Zach swipes his card and the glass slides away giving them entry.

“Good evening, Mr Quinto,” says the man. “And this is your new Imus?”

“Yes,” says Zach. “This is Chris Pine. Chris, this is Leonard’s EA, Jacob.” Chris smiles, but Jacob gives him a cursory once over.

“Of course, you know where he can be taken?” asks Jacob.

“Uh, no,” says Zach.

Chris moves closer to Zach and wonders if this is more stuff Zach would have learned from his so called training course. “What does he mean?”

“The meeting is strictly confidential. Imus escort the executives to WOLPh, but they’re to have no part in the actual meeting,” says Jacob. His manner is professional, but it comes across as brusque.

“Oh,” says Zach, and Chris sees the apology in the Were’s eyes when he turns to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Chris, and gives Zach’s arm a gentle squeeze. In spite of his fortitude Zach still looks mortified.

“Where does he have to go?” Zach asks.

“There’s a dedicated room on the south side for Imus to wait. It’s windowless and caters to their specific needs.” Jacob indicates with a hand the direction they should go, but he’s not moving from behind his desk.

Zach looks at Chris, as though he wants to say something, but can’t in front of the EA. The pain of having the situation completely out of his control is evident, but again Chris touches his arm and speaks under his breath.

“It’ll be okay, we’ll get through this.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Zach, nodding and heading in the direction Jacob indicated.

Out of earshot, Chris whispers, “What’s up pinstripe’s ass?”

“I’m pretty sure he thinks he runs WOLPh,” says Zach. “Chris, I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t know this is what would happen. I thought you got to stay with me, or at least that’s what the ass downstairs said.”

“Hey, I’m not blaming you. I’ve been subjected to a lot worse, believe me. This is nothing. In fact…it’ll be good to find out more about Imus. I’m curious. A group of Vampires in the same room all getting along is almost unheard of these days.”

Zach opens the door and three heads turn as the newcomers enter the room. Chris feels Zach stall, suddenly frozen. He’s hardly surprised since the last time Zach saw that many Vampires they beat him into a Were Slurpee.

“I’ll be fine,” says Chris. “Go have your meeting.”

“Okay,” says Zach, though Chris can see his troubled look. He wants to ask if he’ll be okay, but the Were is already down the hall, as though he’s picked up some of Chris’s speed.

The room is large and furnished with enormous armchairs. There’s a huge TV on one wall, a bookcase full of books and magazines, and a bank of computer terminals, two of which are being used. Chris spots what looks like a coffee machine, but the smell wafting from it is definitely not coffee. He can feel his mouth begin to water, but his fangs remain in check. The other Vampires seem unconcerned by him, so he heads towards the machine. The smell is enticing, and he’s surprised the others in the room aren’t clamoring over it.

“So you’re Zach’s new Imus?” says a voice, and Chris has to concentrate hard to realize he’s been spoken to.

“I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the spell of his focus, and turns to see a woman waiting for his answer. “Oh, yes, that would be me.”

“I’m Rachel,” she says, stepping between him and the coffee machine that’s not a coffee machine, so she has his attention.

“Oh—Chris,” he says.

“Welcome to WOLPh, can I offer you a—?”

“Can you tell me its source?” he asks, fighting the urge to race over and start sucking at whatever nozzle.

“I beg your pardon?” she says looking confused.

“Where has the, um, blood come from, to, you know, supply that?” He indicates the machine, doing his best to look anywhere but directly at it, because he thinks he’s figured out which nozzle will give up its contents.

“Oh, okay,” she turns to the other Vampires who aren’t paying them the slightest bit of attention, maybe to see if they heard what the new guy is asking. “It’s expired blood.”

“It’s what now?”

“Expired,” she says. “Blood banks can’t keep blood forever; it has a use-by date. WOLPh takes the old stuff, pumps a bit of extra oxygen into it and voila! Blood for Imus!”

“Oh,” says Chris.

“So, still want to give it a try?”

“Yeah,” says Chris dubiously, but moves at speed to the machine. He takes a second to see how it works, and the next moment he has himself a cup of blood. God, it’s warm, and the taste? It isn’t offensive, but it’s definitely not fresh. Chris figures whatever taste buds the Imus had have learned to appreciate the duller flavor. He takes a gulp, swallowing quickly to avoid it sitting on his tongue for too long.  “Guess it does the trick,” he says staring at the last mouthful in the bottom of the cup before he goes to finish it.

“Of course,” says Rachel. “It wouldn’t be worth it if they didn’t look after us. You haven’t been Imus long have you?”

Chris stops the cup at his lips. “No, not long,” he says quickly. They should have had a cover story, and put together a little more history since he’s not sure what Zach has told anyone.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing to it. Escort your Dominus wherever, whenever they want and you’ll be fine. My first day was daunting, but Peter was great.”

“Wow, okay,” says Chris unable to comprehend how anyone would be comfortable with the situation. “You wouldn’t prefer your freedom?”

“Spoken like a true newbie,” she says, smiling. “It’s a different kind of freedom. I’m safe during the full moon, I get fed whenever I need it, and I’m in a much better position than those Rogue dicks who seem happy to occupy the sewer, and back alleyways.”

Chris bristles, but takes the final swallow of blood instead of blurting out something stupid that will jeopardize the whole thing. “I guess,” he says lamely.

They move to a couple of armchairs. The other two Imus are busy at the computers, surfing porn and whatever other sites take their interest.

A few more Imus come in, and Chris feels even more like the new kid as they acknowledge each other. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Vampires conversing politely, and it rouses memories of a time when they were capable of being more than the downtrodden class they’ve become. During the Revolution, the Weres’ hatred of them intensified, which sparked the massacre that almost saw his kind wiped out in the USA.

He shudders, as his thoughts threaten to drag him back to the horrors of his past, and finishes his blood.

Rachel introduces him to the others, explaining who their Dominus is and how long they’ve been here. “You won’t ever see Mr Nimoy’s Imus here. He keeps Hemsworth very close. In fact, we’re pretty sure he’s the only Imus allowed at these kinds of meetings, and that’s because Mr Nimoy doesn’t let him mingle with the rest of us.”

Chris nods, almost wishing he could be left alone. There’s an appeal to being reclusive, although he does remember debilitating days after the Revolution when he did nothing but let the loneliness consume him as he grieved.

“Is he that close to Mr Nimoy?”

“Could be,” says Rachel with a shrug. “But since we never speak to him, I guess we’ll never know. We do establish a strong bond with our Dominus. You’ll find as you work with yours it’s almost uncanny how you look out for each other.”

“Really?” Chris is intrigued. Vampires becoming attached to their prospective Weres? He’s beginning to understand how Zach feels in how little he knows about the practice of owning Imus.

“Sure,” she says looking at him strangely. “Wasn’t all this explained?”

“Um, not really,” says Chris, nervously licking his lip as he considers an excuse for his lack of understanding. “I was a rush job, no time for all the formalities.”

“You poor thing. They should catch you up, but I’ve heard of a few instances where the Imus was needed right away, and so a few protocols were side stepped. Your Dominus can probably fill you in.”

“Yeah, probably,” says Chris, thinking Zach knows about as much as he does.

The door opens a few hours later. He hadn’t realized, but it had been locked. One of the other Imus heads straight out after seeing his Dominus. Fascinated, Chris watches the reconciliation. They look as though they’re good friends, smiling at each other, asking how the time was and if they’re okay. It’s oddly reassuring. Rachel’s the next to go and her Dominus scans the room before settling on Chris’s face.

Chris stands, as it seems the right thing to do, and recalls an age-old custom of clasping his hands in front and bowing his head slightly in respect.

“You must be Zach’s Imus,” says Rachel’s Dominus.

“Yes, sir. My name is Chris.”

“I’m Peter,” he says. “You can look at me, son. I’m aware you might feel a little out of your depth, but you’re part of an elite family now, and we’re all here to help each other.”

“Thank you, sir,” says Chris.

“How long were you Vampire before we took you in?” asks Peter, as though Weres capturing Vampires and turning them Kine is doing them a favor.

“A while, sir,” says Chris, concentrating on his breathing, and doing his best to keep his heart rate down.

“Rachel here had twenty years on the streets before she was rescued, then a good two years as Kine before I selected her.”

“I see,” says Chris. _Rescued?_

“I don’t recall seeing you on the floor. When were you captured?”

“Chris,” calls Zach, hurrying to the Vampire’s side. “Was it okay?” he asks, as though Peter and Rachel aren’t there.

“I’m fine,” says Chris, trying to keep the smile on his face. “I was just speaking with Peter here.

“Oh,” says Zach, finally acknowledging the pair. “Right, well. We should get going.”

“It was an honor to meet you, sir,” says Chris.

“Of course,” says Peter. “We should talk more when you come in again.”

Chris just nods and follows Zach form the room, letting go of his breath once they cross the threshold. “Thank fuck that’s over,” he mutters under his breath.

“I need to take you to Leonard,” says Zach.

“Maybe not,” Chris breathes, as he realizes his ordeal isn’t over just yet. “Why?” he asks.

“Well, since he is technically my boss he wants to meet the Vampire I picked.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. That guy Peter back there started asking me some seriously awkward questions about where I came from. We need to get the story between us right, man, before we both say something completely different.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we should. But I’ll be with you this time. It won’t take long and then we can go.”

“Fine,” says Chris and for the millionth time asks himself what on earth is he doing and if this is a huge mistake.

At least he gets to meet the infamous Hemsworth: a tall statue of a man who never leaves Leonard’s side, and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone.

“Ah, Zach,” says Leonard getting up from his chair and coming to meet Zach. “This is your new Imus then?”

“Yes, Leonard. This is Chris Pine.”

Leonard gazes over the top of his glasses, assessing Chris with those calculating eyes, as though they can see into his head. His brows draw together.

“I don’t recall this one,” says Leonard. “How long has he been Kine?”

“Oh, um, he was a recommendation, I’m not sure of the details,” says Zach, and Chris wants to smack him upside the head.

“Lisa can pick them; she knows their histories, and is very good at matching Dominus with Imus. How long have you been Vampire?”

“Two and a half centuries,” says Chris. If Zach won’t start spinning a story to these guys, then he sure as heck will. He hears Zach make a funny little noise in his throat.

“Excellent,” says Leonard. “Good grounding then, and aware of proper protocols. Recommendation or not, Zach, he’s a good pick.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Enough with the sirs,” says Leonard, clapping Zach’s shoulder. “Leave that for these guys,” he says, nodding at Chris. It’s meant to be light and jovial, but even though they’re not even touching, Chris can feel Zach stiffen.

“Of course,” Zach says pleasantly. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Zach doesn’t speak the whole way down in the elevator to the car lot. Chris can just about feel the seismic activity thundering away under the Were’s relatively calm exterior. Though he wants to let him know everything is okay, he also thinks it was an opportunity for Zach to see how Vampires are really treated.

“I’m really hungry,” says Zach as he pulls up to a set of lights.

“I ate,” says Chris, smiling, which coaxes a similar expression from Zach. He directs Zach to a small parking lot. “There’s a burger joint another couple of blocks down. I’ve heard it’s good, though I can’t vouch for it.”

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

Zach gets his burger, and greedily takes a great bite out of it. Chris has long since lost the gnawing jealousy he used to feel whenever he saw humans eating. His thirst for blood is too powerful, and though he initially had vague memories of what things tasted like, as the years passed his constant need consumed him until all he craved was the thick, red fluid. And the stuff back at WOLPh was really good.

“Oh God, this is good,” says Zach, nodding as he hungrily devours the sandwich. “I feel bad eating this in front of you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve never had one, so I don’t really know what I’m missing.”

“Wow, that sucks.”

“Technically, I do.”

After Zach finishes it starts to rain. A few spots at first, which hurries their steps, and then it begins to pour. As a courtesy, Chris jogs beside Zach rather than tearing off at Vampire speed. When they reach the parking lot they’re both soaked, the water dripping through their drenched hair and off their chins.

A scream makes them stop, both looking in the direction of the noise. Pain-filled gasping is a noise Chris is very familiar with. He feels Zach clutch his arm.

“I can hear a heartbeat,” says Zach. “It’s weird though, with the rain, it sounds like there’s two.”

It confirms what Chris already knows. A Vampire with a victim; muffled, wet snuffling noises accompany small growls of content. “It’s feeding,” he says.

“On a…” Zach begins, but Chris can tell he doesn’t want to finish the sentence.

“When there’s no sound coming from the victim it’s not a good sign.” His heart sinks, he’s too late to help.

“Oh God, has it killed them?”

Zach starts heading towards the sound, and Chris goes after him. “Zach, wait!” Shit! He’d forgotten about a Were’s compulsive urge to protect humans.

“You can stop them,” says Zach.

Chris is more concerned about Zach running headlong into danger. “No, Zach!” Chris reaches forward to grab Zach’s arm. He hears the scrape of a shoe on gravel and turns in time to see a large concrete bollard come crashing into the side of his head.

He lands heavily on the ground, his vision dazed, and his ears ringing. The crescendo of pain spirals, almost tipping him over into the darkness that beckons. He can hear his name, someone’s screaming it, but it sounds far away as though through a tunnel. He focuses on it, tries to reach through the agony as his body begins to heal. He reaches up to feel the side that took the blow is wet, and the wounds he’s sustained are still open. Gravel from the parking lot is sticking to him, and as he attempts to lift himself he can see his blood merging with the rain that’s running in streams across the parking lot.

“Chris!”

Chris tries to blink several times, one eye is badly damaged, he has no sight out of it, and the other is giving everything a strange haloed affect. He’s healing quickly, but it’s not fast enough.

“Oh God, Chris!”

He can hear the screams, but only from one ear and he figures the other is probably as bad as the eye. He knows his skull is fractured, and he tentatively feels over the damage. A good portion of it has been completely shattered. In spite of his feeding at WOLPh, this will take more than a small cup of reconstituted blood to undo. The sound of his bones knitting and his skin closing reaches his ears. Muscle and tendons reconnect in the intricate pattern that builds the foundations of his face.

“Rak!” he shouts, partially slurred an incoherent holler as his ruined mouth tries to speak. He’s lost teeth, which will grow back, and at least it’s not his fangs. Losing them is a far greater problem. “Zach?”

He hears Zach’s scream, and manages to get to his feet. There’s a body on the ground, a figure hunched over it, and two other figures standing, one holding the other by the neck. Through the haze of rain and his one good eye, Chris can just make out the stain of blood that slides down Zach’s shirt front. The Vampire is holding him firmly. A dark tattoo decorates the hand clutching Zach’s throat and the Vampire’s jaw is clamped over Zach’s shoulder.

Chris launches himself at the tattooed Vampire, and sinks his fangs into his neck. There’s a shriek, and a hand reaches back, scrabbling at Chris’s face. He drinks deeply, only allowing himself a moment to agonize over the fact that as he does so, the Wereblood the Vampire has taken from Zach will heal him all the faster. The Vampire’s blood isn’t appealing. With Zach’s blood the flavor is tolerable, but no less unappetizing. As he drinks, Chris watches the other Vampire crouching over the body on the ground. His goatee is covered in blood, and he bears his fangs for an instant before coming at Chris. The tattooed Vampire sags in Chris’s arms and lets go of Zach. The Were hurriedly crawls away towards the human victim, his hand clamped over the wound on his neck. It’s been a long time since Chris drained someone, and though it’ll do little to the Vampire, it’ll stop him from being a further threat for a while. Goatee takes a swing, but with Zach now out of the way, Chris heaves the tattooed Vampire into the path of the oncoming punch, pulling up from the bite, and fist connects with face. In spite of the fact that he’s ingested Wereblood, the tattooed Vampire drops to the ground, the blood loss too great for the blood to have the desired effect, as Chris took its potency.

Chris stands over the unconscious Vampire, his face fully healed, and swipes the water from his eyes. He feels everything back in place and whole again. He puts his guard up, his fists in front of his face, ready to counter attack, bouncing lightly on his feet, preparing to move in any direction. The goateed Vampire is broad, and Chris thinks perhaps he’d been a weight lifter or body builder before he was turned. From behind him, however, three more Vampires appear.

“Oh, shit,” says Chris, his mouth hanging open as he tries to comprehend how on earth he’s going to defeat them all and get both himself and Zach out of there.

He allows himself a deep breath, a technique he learned when he found his thoughts clouded with Patrick but he had to remain in the present. Though the last time he utilized it was several decades ago, the habit doesn’t let him down. His focus returns, giving him the ability to assess the situation, consider his surroundings and plan out how this will eventually end. In spite of their numbers, Chris is confident. He is determined to save not only himself, but Zach, and even the human too if they’re not too late.

Centering himself, it’s almost as though Chris sees the scene on a different plane. The figures of his attackers stand out against the dark of the shadowy parking lot. The rain becomes insignificant, sluicing off him. The cars surrounding them merge into the background and Chris readies himself, bouncing lightly on his feet. He can hear the words spoken to him when he’d been preparing for fights previously, a soft, deep, soothing tone whispering words of encouragement, reminding him to guard his weak points and for God’s sake keep those hands up!

The goateed Vampire comes at him, his fists already pulled back to strike; Chris deflects one arm, catches the second and spins on his toe, lifting his other leg to catch one of the other Vampires across the chin. That’s when they all decide it’s definitely on. Roars of rage echo throughout the parking lot as five Vampires converge on one. Chris, his eyes bright red with a hunger he hasn’t felt in a very long time, lets his fangs down and roars back.

 

Zach has never seen anything like it in his entire life, even on the big screen. He presses his hand to his shoulder to help stop the bleeding and he grasps the man they’ve rescued, hoping he holds onto to life long enough for them to get him to proper medical help.

His eyes glued to the scene before him, Zach watches, mesmerized as Chris throws punches and kicks with the grace of a dancer, hitting his targets with a strength and precision that could be mistaken for a choreographic display. He uses the Vampires to his advantage, throwing his body over them, grabbing arms for leverage to launch himself into the next attack. One by one they topple, but each time one falls, one of the others has recovered and gets back up. Vampire speed is being used mercilessly and Zach finds he often loses Chris, only to find him in a completely different position in the fight; but he’s upright, he’s always upright.

Zach remembers the horror at seeing Chris’s face after the bollard smashed into it. No human would have survived it. In fact he doesn’t think a Werewolf would have either. One side of Chris’s head was all but caved in, his eyes a bloodied mess, his mouth torn, ear completely gone. Zach had managed to stay on his feet, but the devastation at seeing the Vampire in such a state made him sick to his stomach. All he could do was scream Chris’s name.

Now, well, now the Vampire looks as though he’s had serious combat training, the likes of which Zach’s only ever seen in movies. His strikes hit their marks and his attackers are feeling the effects even as they try to take him down. Vying for position, the attacking Vampires pile in, fists flailing as their rage distorts their coordination. Zach hears a crack and sees one of them slither to the ground, unmoving. A second crack soon follows, and then a third, the bodies falling like puppets with their strings cut.

The last Vampire standing is the biggest, and Chris, his cuts and bruises fading, picks up a car and whumps it hard and fast onto the Vampire, setting off its alarm. Panting, he flops to the ground until his eyes catch Zach’s and he’s suddenly there beside him.

“Zach, are you okay?” he asks. “How is he?”

“Alive,” says Zach. “He needs a hospital.” He’s leaning against another bollard that segregates the parking lot, his hand still gripping his shoulder. The bleeding has thankfully stopped, but he’s not sure how bad the wound is. Chris lifts the human over his shoulder before helping Zach to his feet.

“We gotta go, now!” Chris says.

“Okay,” says Zach managing to stay standing. Whoa, bit light headed. “I don’t think he’s going to make it,” he says indicating the unconscious human. “His pulse is really weak.”

“Let’s get out of here first,” says Chris. “I’ll do what I can for him once we’re safe. Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah,” says Zach. He’ll be fine once he gets to sit down again.

They reach the car, and Chris gets in the backseat with the human while Zach gets behind the wheel. As Zach pulls out of the space he can see the bodies of their assailants, jerking sporadically as they heal. He briefly considers the one under the car and wonders how long it will take for _him_ to heal.

“That was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. That is not normal Vampire behavior,” says Chris.

“Why would they have been together in the first place?” asks Zach. “A gang of Vampires?”

“I really don’t know. Unless there was something in it for them, but this guy wouldn’t have had a hope with _five_ of the bastards.”

In the rear-view mirror, Zach sees Chris bite into his wrist, squeezing out his blood into the human’s mouth before the wound closes over. He presses his fingers to the guy’s neck, and sees Zach is watching him in the mirror.

“How is he?” asks Zach, glancing between Chris and the road.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, obviously, but the whole ordeal might have sent him into shock, too. We need to get him to hospital. What about you?” asks Chris, indicating Zach’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” says Zach, hoping Chris doesn’t see him flinch when he has to turn the steering wheel. Chris directs Zach to the Grand Park Convalescent Hospital, and they help the guy inside, each bearing a shoulder. The triage nurse tries to get their details, and gives Zach’s shoulder a worried look, but Zach respectfully says they’re just concerned passers-by, and says that he’d been mugged. She’s annoyed when they leave the man with her.

Thankfully, Chris offers to drive since Zach isn’t feeling well. He’s fighting to stay awake. He feels Chris help him out of the car and senses the brightness of the elevator before they get into his apartment. He falls gratefully onto the sofa and it takes him a minute to realize that Chris is taking off his shoes and jacket. It feels better to be lying down, so he lets the Vampire move him about to remove the sodden items. Zach lays back, his eyes closed, as Chris manipulates his limbs to pull at his soggy clothes. He opens Zach’s shirt and the Were hears a soft gasp when Chris sees the Vampire bite. Although it’s no longer bleeding, it’s still open; and it hurts like a bitch.

“I feel funny,” says Zach. “All light-headed and fuzzy.”

“I’m not surprised, that Vampire really did a number on you,” says Chris.

“I’m not going to remember am I?”

“Probably not, it looks as though he had his teeth in you for a while.”

Through lazy, half closed eyes, Zach sees Chris once again bite into his wrist and hold it to him. “It’s okay, really,” says Zach trying to turn away. “I know it hurts you.”

“You’ll scar if you don’t, and then you’ll have a permanent reminder,” Chris insists, and presses his bleeding arm against Zach’s mouth. He hears Chris’s sharp intake of breath when Zach’s saliva comes into contact with the open wound, but Chris’s eyes are locked with his, watching him while he sucks at the tangy, sweet blood. After a moment he lifts off, licking his lips and catching Chris’s wrist with his tongue as he does so. In seconds the pain is gone and he sees Chris looking at him, his hair plastered to his head, his clothes completely drenched.

“You’re soaked through,” says Zach suddenly taking his hand away, where it seemed to have slipped to Chris’s thigh.

“It doesn’t matter; I’ll be going out in it again anyway.”

“It does matter,” says Zach as he heads towards a cupboard near the bed, and fishes out a pair of track pants and a t-shirt.

“Thanks.” Chris immediately sets to undressing and Zach stares at the Vampire’s defined torso and legs when he kicks off his shoes. Jesus. “Do you have a towel?”

“Oh, sure,” says Zach suddenly blinking furiously before turning. Wait, where did he have to go? Oh, yes, the bathroom to find a towel.

“Don’t you want to change into dry stuff?” Chris asks, once Zach has handed it to him and begins scrubbing madly at his hair.

“Yes, yes I do,” says Zach, but instead of going to get more clothes he reaches out, desperate to touch the smooth wet shoulder.

Chris immediately stops toweling his hair and brings both arms down to look at the Were.

“Shit,” Chris murmurs.

Zach trails fingers down his arm, marveling at how cold the Vampire feels. It gives him goose bumps and a memory that seems very close and familiar.

“Zach, don’t do something you’ll regret man.”

Zach can hear Chris’s voice, soft and low, which makes him look at his mouth. A tongue brushes over full lips, then disappears when the lips purse together for a moment.

“Zach?” they say his name. “I’m sorry, it’s the blood. Look, I can go, it’s okay.” They speak so sweetly Zach wants trap the sound; stop it from escaping so he can hear it forever. He settles his mouth over them, pressing firmly when he feels their cool plush strength. At first they try to pull away, firming up in an effort to avoid him.

“God you feel so…so…” Zach whispers. “Kiss me, kiss me.” He wraps his arms about Chris’s torso, pulling him closer, feeling his naked chill through his own wet clothes and suddenly he wants to feel him, skin on skin. Without breaking the kiss, as best he can, Zach moves to tug at his shirt and yank at his button and fly.

“Zach,” says Chris when he manages to escape the embrace. “Dude, you don’t want this. I’ll go, I have to go.”

Zach, his trousers part-way down his thighs, lunges for the retreating Vampire, his hands grasp nothing but air and he lands in a tangled heap. His view of the room suddenly changes to Chris’s feet. He reaches, fingers stroking over the toes. “Even your toes are cold.”

“Jesus, are you okay?”

Zach can see a pair of gorgeous eyes looking at him. They’re wide, jewel bright. They’re gone again and Zach feels arms about him, holding him close, his shirt hiked up so he can feel Chris’s skin against him. Chris isn’t freezing; he feels more like a fresh breeze. Like the seaside. It goes with his smell. Chris smells like the beach, the underlying scent of decay that accompanies the salty air. That, and a small note of something sweet and fruity.

Zach feels himself land on something soft and he realizes it’s his bed. Perfect, much better place to get it on. He makes a second attempt at undressing, but he’s getting help since his soggy trousers are yanked from his legs. He palms his dick, which has grown to fullness without his noticing.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, spreading his now free legs a little as Chris unbuttons his shirt. “You gonna blow me like the other night, baby?” he croons.

“What? What other night? You’re too out of it dude, I’m not about to suck you off without you being in full control of your faculties.”

“Ple-ease,” Zach wheedles and with a finger strokes up and down Chris’s arm.

Chris gives an exasperated sigh. “If I blow you, which believe me I’d like to, you’ll seriously regret it. You’ll wake up tomorrow with all these weird memories, because the attack will be in there too albeit a subdued version. So this,” he waves a hand at Zach’s prominent cock, “can’t happen. You would hate me for it after. You, and I’m sure your wolf buddies.”

Zach sits bolt upright, tears off his shirt and grabs Chris, pulling him down as he flops back on the bed. Chris sprawls across him and though he can feel the Vampire try to right himself, he finds Chris’s mouth and plasters his lips over it.  

“Zach,” says Chris. Zach pushes his hips up, delighted when he can feel Chris against him and begins rubbing his cock into his cool, damp thigh. “No, Zach. I won’t let this happen. It’s not fair on you”

“Please,” says Zach, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything else. His mind becomes a flurry of subconscious visions. Images of Chris naked, of Matt in bed and himself moving towards them, trying to reach out, but it feels as though his arms are pinned to his sides. When they disappear he’s alone until a looming shape emerges from the mist. He can’t see what it is, but it has a mouth full of long sharp teeth. Before he has a chance to scream, Zach’s back in his apartment, his head on his pillow with a view of the back of his sofa.

“Chris?” he calls. He doesn’t remember getting under the covers, but it’s warm and safe. It feels as though he’s been tucked in.

“I’m here,” he says softly. “You okay? You’ve been asleep.”

“How long?”

“Not long, bit over an hour. Did you have a bad dream?”

“I don’t know. My mind feels like a fucking car crash.”

“Go back to sleep, you’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

“No, I’m too awake. Where are you?” His hand leaves the confines of the duvet, reaching out into the dark. The cold hand that grasps back makes him feel even safer. “Can you stay?”

“Yeah, just for little while. Can I get you anything?”

“Could you maybe lie next to me?” The hand lets go, but he feels the mattress behind him dip. He turns under the covers and in the gloom sees Chris is laying on his is back staring up at the ceiling. The rain hasn’t stopped and he can hear it beating continuously on the roof. His mind is a scattered jigsaw of memories, most he can’t pin down, a few are confusing and some he wonders if they were real at all.

“I need to ask you something,” says Chris. He must have found the dryer because he’s wearing his own clothes.

“Okay,” says Zach hugging the duvet around him. Had he dreamt about Chris fighting in a car park? Everything’s drifting around like dust motes and he wants to ask why he has a cutting room floor version of last night replaying in his head.

Chris licks his lips, glances at Zach, and looks away again. He opens his mouth to begin before shutting it. Zach watches him, confused.

At last, Chris says, “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Okay,” says Zach. “Not exactly a question, dude.” Scare him? Maybe Chris has the answers to the gaps left in his brain.

“Until tonight, I don’t think those Vampires had ever even known each other, let alone ever worked together. You know how I said Vampires are mostly loners, these days?” he says.

“Yeah, I remember.” The Vampires Chris had fought, so that happened. Christ, he wishes his mind would stop spinning.

“So, the twins when they attacked you were working together. It’s probably fair to say they’ve been at it since they were turned.  The trio in the park, again, seemed to have an idea of what they were doing. During the Revolution many Rogues banded together to try and bring down the Werewolf regime, and perhaps they were a remnant of that? It’s not unheard of that those left from the revolutionary war have targeted Weres. And though most Vampires prefer to be alone, partnerships are often formed, if they’re to both parties’ advantage.” He pauses, and Zach sees him battling with his thoughts, he has a hand on his forehead. “But the group we just encountered didn’t seem to know what to do. It was as though they figured the easiest way to lure a Were was to threaten a human. I don’t think they anticipated me being there at all. There were five of them for God’s sake, and one human.”

Zach remembers the agony of something sharp painful in his shoulder. He’d been bitten! Again! And Chris had been badly hurt. “Well, one bit the shit out of me while the others tried to turn you into Vampire burger,” says Zach almost pleased he’s able to piece together some of it, even if it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“Yeah, but doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?” says Chris. He seems agitated, as though something’s missing, but Zach doesn’t know what.

“They probably thought we were going to steal their meal,” says Zach, shuddering. Isn’t that what Vampires do? “I can’t believe I just said that. It was a human being for Chrissake!”

“Yes, but as I just said there were _five_ of them! If they were sharing him, he’d have been dead long before we showed up. I really don’t think he was a meal.” Chris suddenly stops speaking, his eyes looking at Zach with an odd expression. “What if they’d been told to do it?”

Well, that’s just ridiculous. “You’re kidding, right? Who tells a Vampire what to do?” says Zach, smiling at the idiocy. He’s got to be joking. “Besides, I’ve tried it; doesn’t work.” He tries to convey a meaningful look, though it’s probably lost on Chris as he keeps glaring at the ceiling.

“A Dominus.”

“Oh, shit,” says Zach. “You think they were _Imus_?” But the thought makes even less sense than those tumble drying in his head.

“I don’t know for sure, but how else can you explain five apparent strangers trying to take down a Were and Vampire?”

“No Imus is going to openly feed on a human. That would be suicide.” Surely they wouldn’t be that stupid. He pushes back the duvet and leans up on an elbow to face Chris.

“So the sentence, as it were, for an Imus who hunts humans is death?”

“Even _I_ know that one, and if the rumors Joe told me are true, then the method of execution is not very pleasant either.”

“Then what happens if the Imus is _told_ to?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. As if a Dominus is going to tell their Imus to go out and eat human! It goes against everything we believe and fight for.” Doesn’t it? What advantage would a Werewolf gain from harming a human? Even so, Chris’s argument—no matter how illogical—has left a pinprick of doubt in the back of Zach’s mind.

“But what if it _was_ deliberate? What if the human was bait?”

“Bait? For whom? Me?” For a horrible moment Zach almost believes it. The twins nabbing him out of nowhere, the thugs waiting until he was alone. And tonight, when the five of them dragged a helpless human to his doom, knowing Zach would feel compelled to help. It _can’t_ be true though. It would be madness to believe it. It has to be just coincidence. They _must_ have been Rogues, Vampires without morals. The idea stops him short; Chris is Rogue and he has morals. So not everything about Werelore is concrete. There are exceptions. He can’t be the only Were out there being set upon by them, though. There’d have to be stories of others fending off Vampires at some stage. Wouldn’t there? His hands begin to shake and he sits up, elbows on his bent knees as he holds his head in his hands.  “It can’t be true.” He thrashes out from the bedclothes, moving toward the kitchen before he paces back. No. Imus don’t attack Weres. “So you think the twins were Imus too?”

Chris is sitting on the edge of the bed and looks Zach up and down. Oh. Zach goes to find a pair of track pants.

“Possibly,” says Chris, continuing from Zach’s question. “Bit strange that these attackers are growing in number, though. Aren’t you restricted to one Imus?”

“I—I don’t really know,” says Zach. He comes back to the bed and sits next to Chris, his heart thumps heavily against his ribs. Christ, could it be true? Is he being targeted by Vampires? “I guess a Were could have as many Imus as he liked,” says Zach quietly.

“Okay, let’s assume there’s a Were out there, or Weres—since it’s more than one Imus—sending their minions to kill you.”

“Oh, fuck,” says Zach. Prickles of terror flush over his scalp and down his back.

“Know anyone who hates you enough to kill you?”

“Maybe Matt,” he croaks. It’s a completely insane idea since Matt would have nothing to gain with Zach’s demise. And he wasn’t the overly jealous type. He can’t imagine Matt thinking _if I can’t have you, no one can_. “But I would think he’d have done the deed by now. This seems a little, you know, excessive.”

“Not when they want to deflect blame. Even if the responsible Were is found out, my guess is it’ll be the Vampire that takes the fall.”

“Yeah,” says Zach, barely audible. This is really not good. Suddenly the air in the apartment seems incredibly thick and muggy.

“Zach, you seriously need your own Imus,” says Chris. “Aside from finding out who’s behind this, and why you’re being attacked, you _need_ protection.”

“I have protection; I just need to convince _him_ of that.” He’s safe with Chris; the Vampire’s proven that time and time again. Why can’t he see that?

“I can’t be your Imus,” says Chris.

“I don’t want any other Vampire,” says Zach. He trusts Chris implicitly, and how does one replace that?

“You don’t have a choice. It can’t be me.”

“Why not? It’s not as though I’ll need you all the time, there’ll just be _occasions_ when I’ll need you.” He’s happy to comply with whatever Chris needs, whatever it takes to make him happy, even his freedom. “You could be a part-time Imus.”

“Zach, it’s not that simple,” says Chris. And Zach thinks the Vampire isn’t telling him everything. “From the looks of it you’ll _always_ need me until we figure out who’s behind this. Whatever this is, if there even is a _this_.”

“You said ‘we’.” He clings to the word. Chris had already been imagining their time together.

“What? I meant you.”

“You said we! You _do_ want to stay with me.” Zach knows he’s smiling like a maniac, but it’s great news that Chris isn’t going to just leave him.

“Fine,” Chris says with finality, “But just so we’re clear, this is a part time deal, and I’m not your fucking handmaid.” Zach whoops aloud, causing his slumbering pets to start. He has to hold himself back from gathering up the Vampire in a grateful hug. “Only until we’ve figured out how much danger you’re in, after that you need to choose another Vampire, okay?”

“No problem,” says Zach, unable to rein in his smile. By then he and Chris will be such an awesome team the Vampire won’t _want_ to go anywhere.

Chris sticks out his hand. “I don’t know how you guys make this kind of thing official…”

“Neither do I,” says Zach, and grasps Chris’s hand firmly, elated that he has the Imus he needs and relieved it isn’t one of those bereft bodies back at WOLPh.

He didn’t realize it at the time, but it took him a while to release Chris’s hand. So beautifully cool. He welcomed the feel of it and wondered how it was other Weres found it so repulsive.

 

When he gets home, Chris can’t believe he’s got himself into a situation he’s spent most of the past two centuries promising to never let happen.

Once he’s in his box, he jacks himself hard and fast. Too close; he came far too close to giving in to Zach’s want. He’s thankful the Were fell asleep, although he can only imagine the kind of dream Zach had.

He comes with thoughts of what might have been, but when he tries to enjoy the afterglow his mind is clouded with the more pressing concern of Zach being targeted. _If_ he’s being targeted. Chris realizes that if that were the case, then how did tonight’s attackers know where to find them? They weren’t at WOLPh, they’d just chosen a random spot so Zach could eat. Not only that—another aspect that’s worrying is the fact that the number of attacking Vampires is growing, and Chris can only assume it’s because of one thing. Him. A less powerful Vampire, a younger Vampire would be easier to overcome. There are too many questions, and not enough answers, but unless he’s happy to see the Were die, Chris knows he has no choice but to stay with him until Zach finds a real, full-time Imus.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach is horrified by the events of the full moon and Chris is getting sick of being treated like shit by the Weres. When Chris comes to the aid of Zoe's Imus Eric, Chris is unsure if he and Zach can keep up their ruse of Dominus and Imus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: violence, gore, horror, dubious moral choices, classist and privileged behaviors.

Having never been in the kind of relationship he has with Chris, Zach is having a great deal of trouble figuring out the boundaries; where the professional part starts and the being friends stops. Pretending aside, he does consider Chris a friend, regardless of species, so does the friendship have to stop when they’ve got their Dominus / Imus masks on? Can’t they just _be_ friends? Because friends help each other out by giving advice and that all important shoulder, they don’t stare blankly expecting you to just think it all out on your own.

“That’s it?” says Zach. “You’re seriously okay with this?”

“I didn’t say that, Zach. Look, if I had the choice, I’d eradicate the practice, but since I’m one Vampire there’s not much I can do.”

The evening had started out great. Chris was happy to escort Zach so he could go shopping and run a few errands. Zach marveled at how late most places stayed open and they’d taken Noah so he could have a bit of a walk.

“So what are your plans for tomorrow?” Zach had asked on the drive home.

Chris laughed, well, kind of chuckled, and looked at Zach as though he’d asked the Vampire for a stroll in sunlight. “Bunking down and making sure the door is securely locked.”

At first Zach was confused, but then he remembered: it would be a full moon. The conversation then went into very uncomfortable territory.

“This isn’t going anywhere,” says Zach, flopping back into the sofa. He’s been in and out of it ever since they got home. The groceries are still sitting on the counter, in spite of Zach taking things out of the bag only to place them down again to walk back to the sofa.

“I used to hunt,” says Chris. “Now I don’t. I’m not proud of what I did in the past, but I understood what I was doing was a pretty horrific thing to do. I’ll never fully get over what I did, but I’ve moved on and found a way that enables me to feed without harm. And by harm I mean taking without consent.”

“So I shouldn’t go,” says Zach, clinging to Chris’s words.

“I didn’t say that. This is for you alone, Zach. You can’t base your decision on my actions; they have to come from you.”

“I just want to know if you think I should or shouldn’t go,” says Zach, getting up from the sofa and pacing in front of the TV.

“What are your thoughts?” says Chris.

“I don’t know!” Zach barks, his hands grabbing his hair in frustration. “That’s why I keep asking. On the one hand, I should because it’s what I do and my gut is telling me I need to rip the hearts out of those Vampires that attacked me. But on the other hand I know I shouldn’t, because it’s killing, but then on the other hand it’s abiding by our code, that we try to cull the numbers, but -”

“That’s already three hands, dude.”

“What?” says Zach, still trapped in his thoughts. He wishes Chris would just say how he feels instead of this torture of letting Zach make up his own mind.

“You keep saying on the other hand. You’ve said it three times.”

“Not helping,” he says with a glare. If he’d known the night was going to end like this he wouldn’t have bothered Chris at all and let himself starve! But then, he’d still be in the same position of not knowing whether he should go out or not.

“Zach, I can’t decide for you, I can’t give you a definite yes or no because that’s ultimately up to you. Am I happy with this monthly ritual? Hell no, but I’m sure your lot don’t like the fact that I feed regardless of the fact that I ask first.”

“But as Imus you’re safe,” says Zach hoping Chris understands how much he truly wants him out of danger.

“And those of us who aren’t Imus?”

“Well, it’s hardly a surprise occurrence; we’ve been doing this for centuries.”

“So those of us crazy enough to step out deserve it?”

“What? No, I didn’t say that, I’m just saying…you should all stay hidden and not chance it. It happens every month for crying out loud.” He goes back to the kitchen, picking up a can and setting it down. The fire in his argument dies. Maybe that’s how it is in Pittsburgh; all the Vampires hide really, really well.  “Pittsburgh was so different. I don’t think I ever worried that I might actually meet a Vampire. And I had Joe.”

“Have you spoken to Joe about it?” Chris is still on the sofa, he hasn’t moved, just sat there all calm and stoic as a fucking cucumber, Zach thinks.

“No, I didn’t really think about it until now.” He manages to put the can away in the pantry.

“What do you think he would say?”

“I don’t know. Buck up, champ, maybe?” What would Joe say? _Dude, you’re freaking out over a bunch of corpses, get this down you and chill for fuck’s sake_. Then his brother would probably hand him a beer.

“He’s for the culling?”

“He had a bit more exposure to Were life than I did. Being six and a half years older, he began morphing well before my dad died, and got to go to the Den a lot more than me too. To be honest I don’t really know what his stance is.” It was all so easy back in Pittsburgh, just wandering the streets and keeping out of sight of humans. But they never experienced anything close to what he’s anticipating now. Perhaps that’s what’s got him so worried—being in a new city he really has no clear idea of what it _is_ like here. Maybe it won’t be so different after all. What if he’s making a big deal over nothing?

Chris leaves before dawn and though Zach is no closer to getting an answer he feels a little better having had the chance to talk about it. He’s still unsure and thinks Chris is right, maybe he should call Joe. But when he tries the phone rings out, and he’s getting tired and needs to sleep. He decides to try again before he goes into WOLPh.

 

Zach is wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt when he arrives at WOLPh in the early evening. He had no luck reaching Joe, which has added to his anxiety. He plans to leave the city, get as far away from any likely action so there’s no risk of him stumbling across a Vampire. Though his colleagues will have seen him at WOLPh, he figures they don’t watch each other that closely once morphed.

He checks the bag in the back seat and puffs out a nervous breath as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s annoyed he feels so edgy, and in part it’s due to the fact that the routine is so different. He can’t stop thinking of Joe and how they would meet up before dark, and chill out until the night settled in. He’d really hoped to speak to Joe, wishes he was there with his older brother, but it’s a simple fact that he’s here and Joe’s there and there’s nothing that will change that. Memories of the Vampire attacks, limited as they seem to be, heightens his need for revenge, but with his uncertainty he’s not even sure he wants it anymore.

The night of the full moon had generally been one of ease, the opportunity to run wild and free, reveling in the power of being a Werewolf. Joe would put on a huge dinner, and they’d eat as a family with his mom. She would spend most of the meal telling them to stay safe, and not be reckless, not that there was much danger of that. And in spite of being human, she always seemed to have a story of an incident that occurred to someone she knew, or rather a friend of a friend of a friend.

Zach doesn’t know how much sleep she ever got, knowing both her sons were out supposedly keeping the city’s residents safe from Vampire. When they got home, she was there, awake with steaming cups of hot chocolate, and a hearty breakfast before they fell into bed. Somehow he really misses the fact that there won’t be a mug of hot chocolate waiting for him this time.

He remembers one night where a Vampire had supposedly been spotted closer to the CBD. The howling calls rang out, but when he and Joe arrived there was nothing to suggest a Vampire had been there at all. But this is LA, and with his mind and stomach alive with jittery butterflies he thinks tonight is going to be a lot more arduous than his previous romps.

Zach reaches his office and stands at the window, unsure what to do as he waits for the sun to set and the moon to rise.

“Zach.”

He turns at the voice, and sees Peter standing in the doorway. He hadn’t realized he’d left it open. There’s a sudden hollow in his stomach and he swallows, trying to fill it. There hasn’t been any blatant animosity, but Zach’s unease isn’t helped by the human’s presence.

“Peter,” he says.

“Exciting night?”

“I guess,” says Zach with a shrug feeling more uncomfortable at entering a conversation with someone who has no idea what it’s like. He’s never killed anything before in his life, let alone taken out something that was once considered human.  And Peter is the last person he would want to talk about that to.

“Come, now,” says Peter, mistaking Zach’s discomfort for nonchalance. “I have to admit, I’m kind of envious of you guys, being supernatural and all.”

“It has its moments. To be honest I’m not really looking forward to it.” Definitely not a conversation he wants to have.

“Really? But surely being able to go out there to hunt is a thrill in itself?”

“For some, maybe,” he replies, thinking about Chris. He’s regretting his decision now, and wishes he’d just stayed home. His instincts are telling him to take vengeance on those Vampires that tried to kill him, but after the discussion with Chris and the Vampire’s theory that they were Imus it only makes the situation worse. The logical explanation is they’d been sent, and if they had, then it comes back to who would have sent them. It squeezes at his stomach and his mind fills with Chris. It’s his face he sees whenever he thinks about what he’ll end up doing tonight. Life was a damn sight less complicated in Pittsburgh.

The previous night he’d ensured Chris would remain safe during the full moon, asking questions about where Chris would be, and was he sure he couldn’t be found? He realizes Chris never gave him an exact address, but it’s probably a good thing given he doesn’t really know how he’s likely to behave. Unlike Pittsburgh, LA is rife with the scent of Vampire. If he knew where Chris was holed up he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t go looking when his Werewolf instincts took over.

Chris reassured him to the point of frustration, insisting that he would be fine, and not to worry. He pointed out over the course of the argument that he’s survived several full moons and will continue to do so.

“So why are you here?” Zach asks Peter now. “I would have thought you’d have your feet up with a game on at home.”

“I used to in the beginning. My late wife was an amazing cook, so I often chose her dinner over the full moon. But it became apparent that as a human I could be useful here. You guys do your job, culling the Vampires who think they won’t get caught, or are too stupid and try to stand up to us. With more than three quarters of the building’s occupants gone, Leonard was open to the idea of enabling me to ensure things continued to run as normal here. We have a lot of external stakeholders with interests in this company. Should anything ad hoc happen, I can take the reins until everyone returns. It’s only one night.”

“Makes sense,” says Zach, although he’s a little concerned with Peter’s use of the word ‘us’. In the situation of a Vampire versus a human there’s really no contest; the human is all but dead.

“It’s best to return before you fully change back. Occasionally one or two get held up and I have to try and locate them.”

“How do you find them?”

“We have a reverse charge number for those kinds of emergencies. Did you not receive it?”

Zach remembers the multitude of emails he’d received before he’d even started. He hadn’t gone through them all, and even now there’s still several he hasn’t so much as opened. “I probably did. I’ve received a lot of stuff, so I’m still finding my way around.”

“Here—” Peter picks up a pad of sticky notes from Zach’s desk and scribbles down a number. “Just in case, memorize that.” He pulls off the note and hands it to him.

“Thanks.”

“So your Imus is safely stowed for the night?”

“Yes,” says Zach, recalling the discussion with Chris that had become a little heated towards the end.

“Tell me again when you selected him?”

“Just this week,” says Zach, sounding dubious. He hopes Peter isn’t about to launch into a whole discussion about it, because he’s pretty sure his mind won’t cope trying to justify the where, when, why and how of Chris, right now.

“He must have been a new addition then,” says Peter. “The fact that he’s such a greenhorn didn’t concern you?”

“Well, I’m new to the whole Imus thing anyway,” Zach says flippantly. “Figured I’d give the guy a second chance.” He wishes the questions would stop. It’s bad enough he has to go out and try not to slaughter Vampires without the whole Imus discussion on top of it.

Peter’s brow creases. “It’s not usually recommended. The Kine who’ve been under sedation for a lot longer are usually calmer, and easier to control.”

“Chris is no problem.”

“You say that now,” says Peter. “But remember he’s new to this as well. Don’t be surprised if his true nature takes over, and past habits take light in the present.”

“Okay,” says Zach skeptically. He’d actually feel safer with Chris right now than this human.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” says Peter, taking a look out the window over Zach’s shoulder. The sky is darkening and all the streetlights are starting to turn on. “Best of luck tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure, and thanks again,” says Zach holding up the number. It’s easy enough to remember and he’s memorized it in moments. He’s still thinking about the conversation wondering what Peter meant by past habits, but he’s thankful the human has decided to leave.

Everyone is supposed to meet downstairs, so Zach leaves his office and heads for the elevator. People are milling about, chatting in pairs or small groups, but where are his colleagues? Zoë, Karl, and even Leonard don’t appear to be anywhere and time is passing quickly. Were they meeting elsewhere and he’s come to the wrong place?

He can feel it then, the surge from his core rising through his body like a wave. He quickly pulls off his t-shirt and track pants, kicking off his shoes in the process. He feels his vision changing, details become more refined, sharper, and he knows they’ve turned their customary yellow. He’s still worried about where the others are even as his canines lengthen, both top and bottom, forcing his lips apart as they jut out from his mouth. Though it doesn’t hurt, the process is far from gentle. His arms and legs thicken, his fingernails growing longer, curving into claws before turning black. His hair thickens and swathes his body, covering his naked form in warm, soft fur. He feels the bones in his face change, clicking out of their regular human shape and morphing into a longer, dog-like muzzle. His ears stretch into a point, repositioning themselves closer to the top of his head.

His tailbone extends in an odd, but familiar sensation that’s always been a pleasure when his tail becomes a part of his physique. His knees change, the bones realigning themselves so they bend in the opposite direction. Zach crouches, planting his hands on the ground as his rib cage narrows, and internal organs shift into position.

The elevator doors open and a number of fully transformed Wolves run out into the car park. Zach recognizes them as his colleagues by their smell, before all manner of different scents flood his nose. The most dominant scent is petrol and oil. It’s so strong it’s overpowering, but he can sense more smells occurring outside. He wonders why the others transformed inside, but his instincts as a Wolf are taking over, and he quickly stops caring. He just wants to run.

Fully transformed, the Wolves head out into the night, fanning across the city in a terrifying wave. More powerful than the Vampires, they move at a greater speed, are a great deal stronger, and with heightened hearing can easily hunt down Vampires who have tried to hide. To a human, a Werewolf would appear as a normal wolf, just several times larger. To a Vampire, a Werewolf is a creature that evokes fear, as they realize they are moments away from death.

LA itself smells completely different to Pittsburgh, and Zach moves through the city chasing scents and hearing the heartbeats of Vampires. Since he can move faster than a Vampire he appears to humans as an unexplained blur, a trick of the eye, a sudden gust of wind as he weaves in and out of side streets, following the sounds and smells of his prey. Many Weres take to the rooftops to avoid traffic, and the hindrance of humans. Though they’re protectors, tonight is about the quarry.

It doesn’t concern him that he’s hunting. His mind is filled with one purpose, and it’s that purpose alone that drives him through the city. As he streaks along less populated streets, most of the heartbeats are coming from underground. Vampires are hiding in the sewers, unreachable from the manholes, since the Weres have no access through the small circular passage: they simply can’t fit.

Then he hears it, a throbbing beat that’s clearer that the others, a clarity that means it’s above ground, not below. His ears twist, and his nose analyses the air. Very close. He can read the signals like a GPS, the sounds forming shapes, the smells giving directions and the Vampire’s heartbeat a bright distinct flash, flaring in his mind like a strobe light. Changing direction, he tears down a street, upsetting bits of paper and leaves as they flurry in the turbulence. He weaves in and out of the few cars, leaping over them in a single stride. The drivers hit their horns as a sudden _something_ appears, but then they realize they’re honking at nothing.

The sound and smell gets stronger and Zach reaches a large park, passing a sign that says ‘Evergreen Memorial Park’. It’s a wide expanse of grass, dotted with palms, oaks, and the occasional spruce. Lines of headstones ripple across the park creating swales of granite and marble. A figure up ahead, running for dear life looks back momentarily, and in so doing trips over one of the headstones, toppling over to land in the pathway between the rows. Zach is on him in an instant. The creature writhing under his paws only heightens Zach’s desire; he’s never wanted to shake the life out of something so badly. The Vampire is screaming, begging for his life, but Zach can smell the blood of human victims on the guy’s breath, fresh from the kill. He considers the lives lost because of this creature, and from the different scents he can depict a mother, a young teenager, a man, possibly hurrying home to his family. Whether the images are true, he’s uncertain. Abilities he never knew he had have taken over. Right now, all he knows is that this Vampire took those people, took them from their families and loved ones, and shortened lives that could have run for several more decades.

He clamps his jaws over the Vampire’s neck, his teeth sinking into the soft undead flesh. He lifts it, shaking the creature back and forth to render it immobile. The Vampire’s scream turns into a gargle. There’s a distinct crack and then silence. Zach can taste the Vampire blood on his tongue as it seeps into his mouth from the wound he’s made on the Vampire’s neck. The taste is surprisingly familiar—and that’s when a rush of memory and emotion curdles his Wolf mind.

Zach stops suddenly and takes several steps back, staring down at the broken body lying in front of him. Already the skin is closing. The neck will take time, but he will eventually heal. Zach, however, is horrified. He licks around his mouth, picking up more blood and it only fires off more memories and feelings that seem completely out of place here as he watches a Vampire try to heal.

Zach starts nudging the creature under a tree when he hears a howl coming from a long way off. Zach pricks his ears, determining the location and sources it on the other side of the city. The sound is a long drawn out note followed by a few breathy calls. It’s a message, and Zach understands that a group of Vampires has been found. The call is for the Wolves close enough to join in, and assist in the kill.

Zach runs in the direction of the howl, traversing the city quickly as he navigates in a way unfathomable to humans. He reaches a golf course where two Wolves are sitting at the door to a small greens keeper’s shed. Zach immediately identifies the Wolves as Zoë and Karl. They touch noses in greeting and Zach learns that there are four Vampires inside. He can hear them talking urgently; angry, frightened voices trying to figure out a solution. He can hear a woman—no, there’s two of them; two female and two male. He can hear them moving the equipment inside, perhaps in their effort to locate an alternate escape route. In their efforts to escape it seems they’ve formed a tryst, although it doesn’t sound like an amicable one.

Two of them are arguing and Zach reaches forward with his great paw and creates several deep gouges in the door with his claws. The Vampires have heard him and are becoming increasingly frustrated. Zach sees Zoë and Karl come to the same conclusion: they’ll try to make a break for it. The three Wolves fan out, surrounding the doorway as the noise from the shed falls silent. Zach isn’t sure, but he thinks one of them is praying, softly murmured words that seem to be the Lord’s Prayer.

The door crashes open, and the four Vampires flee. Three manage to run past, but Karl pins one of the males to the ground, making short work of him. Zach watches as Karl devours his catch, arms severed and swallowed, flesh torn from bone before being consumed. He can smell the blood and hear the soft squish of meat being chewed. Something stops him going for some of it, though Karl isn’t being overly protective of his food. Zach’s mind assaults him again with images and thoughts. He feels a sense of wrong doing, that this isn’t what he wants, but the smell and desire is so powerful, he needs to leave before he joins in.

Zoë had leaped away after the fleeing Vampires and Zach follows her scent and that of one of the male Vampire. He’s lead down a culvert, then through a large drainpipe with a stream of shallow water, carving through the golf course. He hears Zoë howl and runs harder, splashing through the water to the other side. One of the females is still alive, Zoë’s in pursuit, but could use help.

Zach bounds over the golfing green, leaping effortlessly over the sand traps until he enters suburbia where the streets are lined with upmarket houses. He can smell Zoë’s trail, and the Vampire. He hears Karl’s howl as the Were has finished and is set to follow. He sees the large grey Wolf as he charges up the street, and Zach realizes the plan is to surround the Vampire, and take her down once she has no where left to run. Zach thinks perhaps she’s heading for the hills north of LA to try and hide herself in the open wilderness. There’s still plenty of houses, large mansions of LA’s elite, but the areas that aren’t as built up have the capability of hiding a Vampire as there’s space enough to elude the Wolves.

He runs along Nicholas Canyon Road until the residential estates stop, and he’s surrounded by open scrubland. He can smell the Vampire. She’s alone, but Zoë and Karl can’t be far. He hears a howl, then a second. Zoë and Karl are closing in from different directions. Zach bounds into the wilderness, hearing the Vampire’s panicked heart as her scent strengthens. She’s gasping for breath after running hard, and when he sees her, she cries out as their eyes meet. Holding her gaze, he steps to one side, creating an opening for her to escape, but she bolts in a different direction. The two other Wolves quickly change position around her, and the Vampire’s chance to run evaporates.

She stops suddenly; the three Wolves have formed the points of a triangle around her. She turns, looking from one to the next, clearly trying to figure a way out.

“I’m not an animal!” she shrieks just as Karl launches himself from his position, and lands directly on top of her. Her final scream is cut off just as Zoë runs to join in. Zach trots up, but even though it’s taken barely a second for him to reach them, there’s little left of the Vampire. The despair of having lost her weighs on his heart. He hadn’t meant for her to die like this. He’d tried to help her escape. He can still taste the Vampire he’d harmed in the park and smell the blood of the Vampire Karl had taken on the golf course. He doesn’t want to feel like this, a deep dark hollowness that he knows will take a very long time to fill.

Zoë and Karl run off, leaving him with the stained clothes and his stained soul. He walks back through the scrub and hears the howls of others as they call their comrades. He reaches the crest of a small hill that overlooks the city and lies down, his head on his paws, but the view is still there. The bright lights of LA are the only thing brighter than the great moon above. In all his life Zach thinks this is the first time he’s ever regretted being a Werewolf.

It’s not until he feels a sudden, overwhelming sense of urgency that Zach looks at the moon, realizing it’s about to touch the horizon. He hurries back to WOLPh with plenty of time to spare, and soon the space is filled with Wolves. Zach goes to his car just as his Wolf body begins its transformation back into human. His chest broadens, as his lungs relocate along with his heart, his legs reshape his knees and thicken as the fur evanesces. Once he’s capable of standing he leans on the car, as his arms regrow hands and his tailbone recedes. Gasping, he clings to the car’s trunk, his face changes back, the bones morphing to reshape his nose and mouth. His canines shrink back to normal, and when he catches his reflection in the rear view mirror he sees his yellow eyes change back after a few blinks.

Panting, Zach’s tries to retain the events of the night in his mind. Like waking from a dream, he has fleeting moments of memory, but one thing that does come forward are the faces of the Vampires he had a hand in maiming or seeing killed. He instantly feels sick, in spite of the effect the Vampire blood has on him by making him stronger, and more energized. It turns his stomach when the faces of victims, screaming in panic and fear, come back to haunt his mind.

“Awesome night, man,” says Karl, clapping him on the back as he walks past completely naked. Each of the Weres seem to have a bag of spare clothes stowed and they change quickly, eager to get home and rest. Though well fed on Vampire, the process of changing into Wolf then back again takes a surprising amount of energy. Zach feels as though he’s just finished a triathlon.

“Yeah,” says Zach nodding at Karl. He grabs his clothes and hurriedly changes. He wants to get away, and not have to deal with the congratulations and recognition of a job well done. Was it really a job well done? He knows he hurt a Vampire very badly and managed to help two of his colleagues kill when he tried to let one go. Vampires who used to be human, the very thing Weres are trying to protect. He knows the Vampires have killed, but even with that knowledge, he can’t seem to justify what he’s done. It’s a heavy lump in his chest, knowing lives have been lost; that each one had woken up that evening completely unaware they wouldn’t live to see the following night. Woken up to the night they would die.

He drives home, glad it’s still dark, because he really wants to call Chris. Thinking back on his behavior tonight—his _abhorrent_ behavior—he needs to know the Vampire is safe.

“Hey, Zach,” says Chris. He answered almost immediately, and the instant Zach hears his voice he blows out a sigh of relief. “What’s up, thought you’d be out hunting?”

“The full moon’s set,” he says trying to keep the distress he feels out of his voice. He fails.

“Okay. Well, good to know the danger’s over.”

“I tasted Vampire. I almost killed this guy; and then I tried to save one, but I couldn't. So I pretty much helped Karl and Zoë eat Vampire meat.”

“Whoa, bit graphic; I don’t need a blow by blow,” says Chris.

“Fuck, Chris. What have I done? I didn’t want to cause us any more trouble. I might have been missed if I didn’t go, then I’d have Leonard and Peter asking me all kinds of difficult questions.”

“Okay,” says Chris cautiously.

“I feel like complete shit,” says Zach contradicting the fact that physically he feels fantastic. He wipes away a maddening tear and takes a big sniff. “I didn’t know it would be like that, it was so hard to stop and think and not want to join in.” His voice is trembling and he’s desperately trying to keep the tears from blurring his vision.

“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do,” says Chris and Zach has never been more grateful to hear the Vampire take control. “Get your ass home, and take a long hot shower. I’m calling back in an hour.”

“Alright,” says Zach quietly, though he’s glad there’s some direction, something else to think about other than the screams and faces in his head.

“You’re okay, just get home.”

“Okay.”

True to his word, Chris calls. Zach wishes the Vampire were here with him and for a confusing moment, pictures snuggling up against him on the sofa.

“Better now?” Chris asks.

“A little,” Zach replies. The shower had helped. He’d had it as hot as he could stand, scrubbing over his body several times with the shower gel he’d bought when Chris took him shopping.

“It’s understandable that it would be a bit overwhelming,” says Chris carefully.

“Thing is, I feel amazing.” The Vampire blood will have regenerated cells, repaired any injuries and even fought whatever infections Zach might not have known he’d caught, like the common cold.

“That’s hardly surprising,” says Chris though there’s no malice in his words.

“I don’t think I can do that again.”

“But you have to don’t you? Won’t the others expect you now? And what else can you do? Play with Noah until the moon sets?”

“Ha, ha,” says Zach. “I’ll think of something.”

“It’s nearly dawn. Would you like me to come over this evening?”

The idea instantly makes Zach feel better. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” He figures he’ll be okay since he plans to spend most of the day sleeping. When he’s under the duvet with the first rays of morning filtering through the blinds, Zach realizes that in spite of having sampled Vampire blood, he doesn’t feel in any way turned on.

 

Chris, clean and fresh after a shower, locks up his abode before he heads off into the night. It’s a few minutes past six, but he figures Zach will probably be waking from his day of sleeping, after the dramas that happened the previous night. He can understand Zach’s grief; even though he didn’t outright kill, he had been an accessory. Chris isn’t sure how he really feels about it, now that he’s getting to know Zach more and more. The Weres have been culling Vampires since the war and though he’d much rather they didn’t, he’s one man against an organized army of creatures that become a lot more powerful every full moon. He also knows what it’s like to take life, but it’s something he never plans to return to. That’s why he takes clients at Bar Sinister. They come to him, wanting to be bitten, wanting him to feed from them, and it was better for him mentally than grabbing a quick fix from whichever unfortunate passer by crossed his path.

He stays above ground and reaches Zach’s building in under a minute. He figures Zach heard his heart since the Were opens the door just as Chris is about to knock.

“Hey, man. Come in,” says Zach with a sweeping gesture.

The instant Chris walks in, Noah is at his feet, tail wagging and tongue lolling, his eyes bright as though he’s smiling.

“Noah, buddy,” says Chris, stooping to one knee to give the dog a proper pat. As he’s doing so he feels Harold brush up against his leg, and he spends a moment more on the floor, as he gives the cat a few strokes along his back, before scratching under his chin. “How’re you doing?” he asks Zach when he stands. Zach had gone to the sofa, watching as Chris fussed over his pets.

“Better,” he says as Chris sits. “The sleep helped. I think because I was still so close, it had only just happened, it messed with my head a bit. But one thing is for certain: I am never doing it again. I don’t fucking care if I’m missed.”

“Well, there’s only one thing I can think of that helps,” he holds up a board game and smiles when Zach’s eyes widen.

“Criss-Crosswords? That looks like it’s been around since the turn of the century.”

“This, my friend, is the _original_ Scrabble. I bought this from the guy who invented the game back in the nineteen thirties!” He opens the box and pulls out the board that’s old but in amazing condition.  They sit closer together on the sofa so they can reach the board and Chris lets Zach draw out his tiles first. “The original game rule was to start top left, but we’ll start in the middle like regular Scrabble.”

Chris watches Zach mull over his tiles, the vaguest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He places down five tiles: L-Y-C-A-N. “Lycan.”

“Fitting,” says Chris and uses the N to spell ‘neon’.

Though considerably more passive than modern day video games, the competitiveness is no less fierce in both Were and Vampire. Chris demands a dictionary and Zach arms himself with a thesaurus. Most words are accepted without question, but occasionally Chris double checks for spelling and insists on using the British spelling for color just so he can get rid of his U.

Then Zach slaps down ‘bruxism’, and even while Chris is reaching for the dictionary, gives a loud whoop of triumph. He grabs Chris by the shirt front, pulling him in close for a hard kiss. Eyes wide, Chris thinks it’s the most perfectly natural thing to have happen, and is about to respond when Zach pulls away.

“Oh shit,” he says, looking startled. “I’m, um, sorry about that. I didn’t mean -”

“It’s fine, Zach,” says Chris, wishing the moment had lasted a bit longer. Zach’s mouth felt warm and soft, the complete opposite to Chris’s cooler lips. Perhaps that’s what snapped Zach out of it: realizing he was kissing a Vampire.

Zach‘s phone suddenly starts ringing, and the Were grabs it off the coffee table.

“Hello?” he says. “Yeah, yeah okay... Oh, tonight? Um, no, I wasn’t doing anything.” He looks to Chris and gives a shrug of hopelessness. “Yeah, I guess he’ll come... Of course, yes. I know I can make him come if I want.” Chris looks at him quizzically, but Zach is trying to listen. “Yep, alright then, I’ll see you soon.”

When he disconnects Chris raises an eyebrow. “That sounded terribly committing.”

“That was my friend Zoë; she asked me to go to Cerberus. We take a day or two after a full moon to, I don’t know, get over it, I suppose. And, well, now that I have one, I’m expected to take my Imus.”

“Jesus, Zach,” says Chris, rolling his eyes. “And you didn’t feel obligated to ask if I wanted to go?”

“She asked if we wanted to go out.” Zach seems completely bewildered and Chris is angry that he doesn’t get it.

“No, she asked if _you_ wanted to go out,” he says stabbing a finger towards him. “And you let one of your Wolf buddies dictate how _I_ would spend my night.” The finger then points at his chest.

“I’m sorry,” says Zach. “If you really don’t want to go, I’ll call her back and say something came up.”

“Please don’t turn into one of them.” Chris shifts his weight, turning away from Zach so he faces the TV.

“What? What are you talking about?” says Zach leaning forward. He tosses his phone on the coffee table.

“You don’t undermine me like they do; you treat me like an equal. Please don’t start thinking you’re more superior all of a sudden.” He refuses to look at the Were.

“Chris, what the fuck man, I would never -”

“You just did!” says Chris, exasperated he stands, his first inclination to go for the door, but turns back with an angry glare. “I get that I’m your pseudo-Imus, but fuck if I’m going to be treated like one. You spend one night with your buddies and it’s ‘sorry Chris, you’re still just a fucking Vampire’!” He can’t believe the Were has no clue as to how he feels, what it’s like, a lifetime of being hated enough to kill.

“What? No, it’s not like that at all.” Zach rubs his forehead in desperation. “Chris, please.”

“No one _asks_ to become Vampire,” Chris shouts, arms gesticulating. “We don’t fucking line up and take it and say fucking thank you. This wasn’t a choice for me! I am what I am and regardless of what Werewolves think I _do_ care about those I bite and I certainly do not kill!”

Zach looks completely stunned. “Chris, I am sorrier than I can possibly say. You’ve done things for me that I can never repay and the last thing I want is to make you feel inferior. You have every right to walk away from this. I don’t want you to feel as though you’re expected to protect me for any reason other than you want to.”

Chris sighs, “I’m not going to walk away. But I need you to understand my position here Zach. I’m filth as far as Weres are concerned and they would kill me for simply being what I am.”

“I won’t let them,” says Zach, and Chris is deeply moved when he sees the tears in Zach’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to offend you, there were times where friends would call and I’d just say yes without asking Matt. It was a stupid call, please…” Zach hasn’t moved from the sofa. Chris is standing, looking down, seeing the remorse clearly on the Were’s face. “We won’t go, we’ll stay in, we don’t have to go anywhere.”

“I just want to know that you understand what I’ve been through, what I still go through isn’t because I asked for it or because I think I deserve it,” although he quite often does. “Weres put this on us.”

“I know Chris, I really do.” Zach looks devastated and though Chris is still riled he’d really like to kiss him, because he doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels a burst of bitterness at Zach’s mention of Matt. But he’s not sure it would be welcome.

“So this club, what gives?” All Chris really knows is it’s a Mecca for Weres.

“They serve great drinks,” Zach says braving a smile. “And the music was awesome. I think I had a pretty good time last time I was there, in spite of the copious Wolf’s banes I’d had.”

“We can go,” he says after a stifling moment.

“We don’t have to; I don’t want to go anywhere that’ll make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’ll be fine. You need to go out and mingle, meet new people. Just don’t -” he stops, finishing his sentence with raised brows.

“I will always ask first,” says Zach as he gets up, he’s close enough for Chris to lean in if he wanted to, but for now Chris is frozen between doing what he really wants, and what it will mean if he does. Like the night Zach was high on Vampire blood. He’s unsure if it’s the same struggle he can see in Zach’s eyes, the same desperate need they want to share but are too terrified of what will happen once they cross that line. Chris’s lips part, and for one breath they seem locked in the moment. Zach blinks, breaking the connection, and starts heading for his closet. Chris, disappointed that the opportunity has gone, wants to ask about the seemingly accidental kiss, but Zach is beginning to tug his t-shirt from his pants as he changes. When Zach heads for the bathroom, Chris wonders about Zach’s ex, Matt, musing as to whether they would laugh and kiss when they got ready for a night out. He doesn’t want to consider the small knot of envy that’s formed in his stomach. He does, however, take consolation in the fact that Zach’s ex is, well, his ex.

“Will I do?” Chris asks.

“You’re fine,” says Zach. “But you could borrow a shirt if you want.” He’s not trying to bring down Chris’s choice of attire; Chris understands the Were wants him to feel comfortable, especially as they’re about to surround themselves with Zach’s kin. Chris takes pleasure in the fact that even though he’s in a pair of plain jeans and a shirt, the Were’s gaze lingers a little longer than necessary.

“If you don’t mind, I will.”

The hint of a smile crosses Zach’s lips as he goes, and spends a good five minutes selecting a shirt for Chris.

 

Chris is able to hear the thumping techno dance music from the car park, and when they step inside it’s even louder. The lighting is minimal and casts deep purple and orange shadows across the walls and ceiling. The dance floor in the center is huge, surrounded by tables and chairs, then more secluded booths. Great purple and orange chandeliers hang from thick black beams, the crystals throwing the light into sparkles over the dancers. To one side is a DJ with enough gear to run the Death Star, flanked by couples dancing right up against each other in tall cages, and dressed in skintight outfits and body paint.

Chris stays close to Zach, keeping behind him, but ensuring they’re no more than a foot apart. They get a few glances. Although Zach’s been here once before, he’s now accompanied by a Vampire.

“Do I just stay with you?” Chris shouts to get above the beat.

“Not sure,” says Zach. Chris sees the woman they met in the street a week or so ago. He remembers she has a really tall Imus with an accent, but he can’t see the tall Vampire among the bobbing heads. “Hey, there’s Zoë, we can ask her.”

“Sure,” says Chris, but prickles as he recalls Zoë’s rebuke when he was coming to Zach’s aid.

“Zach!” cries Zoë, her hands in the air before she settles them on Zach’s shoulders, her drink held between her fingers, and comes in to give him a kiss on each cheek. “I’m really pleased you came. Oh,” she says when her eyes settle on Chris. “Oh, you can take your Imus to The Pit.”

“The Pit?” says Zach and Chris can hear the uncertainty.

“It’s where our Imus chill while we party up here,” she says raising her glass before taking a sip. “It’s that way,” she points, “Down the stairs to the left. You’ll see the signs. It’s also best you take him so the others see that he’s on their level. We had an incident once where an Imus went by himself. The others thought _he_ thought he was better than them.” Chris can tell Zach isn’t too keen by the way he suddenly shifts his body closer. “The point is, it’ll save you having to get another, if you catch my drift.” Another woman comes up, and Zoë screams as the two hug, trying to balance drinks. She dances off, but turns back to signal Zach to hurry up.

“The Pit? Sounds peachy,” says Chris although he’s hardly surprised the Weres have a designated holding pen while they party on.

“I don’t like it. I’ll come some other time,” says Zach, but Chris sees him watching the dancers and can tell he’d really like to join them.

“And who’s going to take you? Or are you planning on clubbing during the day?” he asks.

“I don’t know. It was okay last time, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, let’s check it out; maybe it’s a whole Vampire disco that’s even better than this.” It’s doubtful; in fact Chris would be in total shock if that were the case.

“Let’s not,” says Zach. In spite of the buzzing atmosphere Chris can just about feel the Were’s apprehension.

Another Were and her Imus—a very large Imus dressed in a leather jacket with braids in his goatee—head for a doorway on the opposite side of the room. The Imus happens to catch Chris’s eye, and gives him a nasty smile.

“Isn’t he pleasant,” says Chris. “Yep, it’ll be a regular hug-fest.”

“Zach,” says Zoë, hurrying back to them. “I just saw Danica take Victor downstairs.”

“Yeah, we saw them,” says Zach.

“You don’t understand, Eric’s down there and the last time he and Victor were at close quarters, I had to watch Victor pound the shit out of him.”

“Oh,” says Zach.

“Could you please just come down with me to get him? It should be okay, but I don’t want Eric hurt again.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he says and turns to Chris. “You okay here?”

“Dude, if you think I’m letting you go down there without me you have another thing coming,” says Chris. As much as he doesn’t want to be here, Chris isn’t not about to let Zach walk into more danger.

“Thanks,” says Zoë with a smile. It makes him feel a little more empowered than the ball-shriveling gaze she often lays on him.

She leads them across the dance floor to the doorway on other side of the room. Sconces along the walls light the stairs downwards, and Chris follows Zach to a landing, then down another flight before they reach the lower level. Sure enough, there’s a purposefully made sign, complete with an elaborate curling arrow showing the direction of The Pit.

“Doesn’t it just sound so welcoming,” says Chris under his breath.

“Once we’ve sorted out Zoë and Eric, we’re out of here,” Zach tells him. “I’m not leaving you in this place.”

The door to The Pit doesn’t fit in with the rest of the décor. It looks as though it’s made from steel, rivets reinforcing the corners and along the edges and a great lever like door handle as though it’s the door of a safe. It’s at least a foot thick and Chris can see retracted prongs that would slot into holes set in the doorjamb. It’s standing open because Danica is there to let Victor in. The inside of the door has no handle. Vampires stay in and don’t come out until they’re let out. It’s been a long time since Chris was exposed to the nature of Weres and it sends a ripple across his shoulders as memories flit through his mind.

“Can you see Eric?” asks Zach. The room is quite large with muted lighting and the same music as upstairs, only quieter. Everything is dark; dark paint on the walls, dark floor boards, dark furniture and a pool table at the far end. There are about ten Vampires already inside.

“No, not yet,” says Zoë trying to see past Danica as she finishes speaking to Victor.

“Zoë!” Danica exclaims. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Headache.” She feigns pain in the temple by giving it a quick rub with her fingers.

“Well, I’ll see you next time then. Victor is well aware he overstepped the mark.”

“I’m sure,” says Zoë. Danica smiles sweetly and heads back upstairs. “She’s head of marketing for that big computer company on the corner of Fifth. Totally ruthless. As much as I admire her work, she’s a total pain in the ass.”

“Wow, really?” asks Chris. He’s surprised Zoë gets unnerved at all.

“Um, I think we have a problem,” says Zach.

“Oh, shit,” says Chris.

Victor already has Eric by the throat, his legs dangling.

“Zach,” Zoë pleads. But Chris, realizing it’s an unfair fight, dashes in and plants a fist in Victor’s side. The big Vampire instantly lets Eric go and falls to his knees. Eric is coughing, his hand on his neck, but the bruise is already fading.

“Thanks,” Eric croaks. “He’s a fucking bully and likes the fact that I’m seventy years his junior.”

“No worries, man,” says Chris, guiding Eric back to where Zoë and Zach are waiting by the door. They’re almost there when Zach’s eyes widen, but before he manages to speak Chris is flying across the room, crashing into the wall then hitting the floor.

“Jesus,” says Zach.

His vision foggy, Chris manages to get on all fours and tries to stand until the toe of a steel capped boot lodges itself in his ribs, cracking two and forcing him over onto his back.

“You don’t want to do this,” he rasps. Victor grabs his shirt front and hauls him up before taking a swing that catches Chris across the jaw, whipping his head back.

“Chris!” shouts Zach.

He can feel blood on his face and tongue. Victor’s hand is clutching Chris’s neck in a tight squeeze, cutting off his breathing, but he keeps his eyes on the big Vampire.

“New fuckers need to be shown their place,” sneers Victor. “I’ve got a hundred and twenty years over this lot; think you’re old enough to run the show?”

“Yeah,” Chris gasps, “I think so.” Chris’s hand moves fast, grabbing Victor’s wrist and ripping it away from his throat as through the other Vampire had no strength at all. Victor’s eyes widen when he realizes Chris is in fact a lot older than him, but Chris can see the determination behind his eyes. “And no offense dude, but you can’t take me.”

“The hell I can’t,” says Victor, smashing his other fist into Chris’s face.

Chris blinks, trying to clear his head. The stars begin to recede as steadies himself, but the next blow hits his middle and he’s forced over, curling in on himself as the wind in his lungs leaves him. He crumples to the floor gasping, and more stars cloud his vision.

Victor grabs him by the shoulders of his shirt, yanking him upright even though Chris is swaying, and still fighting for breath.

“I really don’t want to fight you,” Chris croaks, but Victor’s fist slams into his face again, and Chris is sent whirling to the floor. He sees Zach and Zoë still in the doorway, their faces full of horror. Even Eric seems at a loss to help. Chris doesn’t want to fight. His reasons for doing so burnt out long ago, but his past always manages to find him again and again.

Chris launches himself from the floor when Victor is about to reach for him again. His arm is outstretched, palm flat, and as he straightens, the heel of his hand connects with Victor’s nose. There’s a nasty crunch as the bones in Victor’s nose sheer away from his skull, and the resulting shards of cartilage drive straight into his brain. Blood spouts from his ruined nose and the big Vampire collapses to the floor.

Chris steps back, away from the growing pool of blood. Wiping his own nose with the back of his hand, it comes away bloodied. The room is completely silent, and he turns to see every set of eyes wide. What’s confusing is Chris can see they’re all full of one thing: respect.

“Chris,” says Zach and he turns to see the Were coming towards him. “Are you okay?”

He nods, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“There’s one of those machines here, did you need blood?”

Chris sees the machine in all its shiny chromeness. “Where’s the blood come from?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then no, I’ll be fine. Why do they let him come here if he’s beating everyone up?”

“I don’t know that either. Let’s just get you out of here.”

They gingerly make their way around the blood on the floor but just as Chris is about to step out, Zoë catches his arm. “Are you okay? Do you need blood or something?” she asks. She’s angry, but not at him.

“I’m fine,” says Chris. “He’ll be okay too. Give him an hour or so and he’ll probably walk out of here.”

“Thank you,” she says. “For Eric. I know you didn’t have to.”

Chris nods. “Sure.”

Without the blood, his injuries take a while to heal since he does need to feed.  Zach guides him back up the stairs, past the bewildered dancers and out into the street.

“We are never coming here again,” says Zach.

“How else will you catch up with your Were buddies?”

“I really don’t think I’ll want to,” says Zach. He reaches for Chris’s face, but stops himself. “Listen, do you want to come back to mine for a bit, have a shower maybe, and just hang out?”

“If you insist,” says Chris. He’d prefer to go home, but the Were is beginning to fuss, asking where it hurts and how long until that bruise clears. Zach gives him a fresh towel when they reach the apartment, and the shower gives Chris the chance to wash off the blood as his remaining injuries heal.

Zach is on the sofa when Chris comes out in a pair of borrowed track pants and t-shirt. “Did you want to play some more?” he asks when Chris sits.

“Why not,” he says. It’ll pass the time before he has no choice but to go before dawn stretches her golden fingers across the sky.

The game, however, is quiet at best, and they don’t even try to correct each other when alternate spellings come into play. Chris wants to go and abandon this disaster of a night so he can sleep and get his head back together and not have to hate all the Weres because of how they treat him. He’s not even sure why he’s still here at Zach’s, but _something’s_ keeping him there. This thing that’s come between them needs to be resolved.

But rather than say something, Chris broods about the night’s events, the position he’s got himself into and the fact that he really can’t see the point in staying as Zach’s Imus. Why prolong the inevitable? Wouldn’t it be better to get it over with now, so they can just get on with their lives? Zach keeps looking at him nervously and he wonders what the Were is thinking. _Probably_ ‘ _I have a monster with a black belt in pulverizing sitting in my living room’_ , Chris thinks, although he knows it’s unfair.

Even Noah and Harold sense something’s awry, because the dog is sitting next to his master’s leg, but strangely Harold is tucked up next to Chris. Chris didn’t think he’d be a cat’s first pick because of his temperature, but he’s not complaining. It’s rather nice.

Zach puts down F-U-C-K and it takes a minute for Chris to see it. When he does he looks up. Zach looks completely morose. “About earlier,” he says. “I want to apologize for just accepting the invite to go out. I’m sorry, Chris, I really am. I’m also sorry about what happened with Eric. It wasn’t your problem, but I am indebted to you, again, for stepping in.”

“Zach,” Chris says. “I think we really need to consider my replacement.”

“What?” says Zach, alarmed. “No, not yet, please not yet. If it’s anything to do with what happened I swear we will never set foot anywhere you don’t want to go. We’ll only go to regular clubs, or find other stuff to do, whatever you want. Please, Chris, please don’t do this.” Zach’s hand clutches the sofa cushion, just shy of Chris’s thigh. His eyes are full of fear and remorse and sadness. Chris fights the desire to reach out and cover Zach’s desperately gripping hand with his own. This isn’t what he needs. He’s fought too long and hard for the life he now has. He can see it crumbling around him as he’s dragged deeper and deeper into the Wolf den.

“It’s not about tonight. I’m just not Imus material. Quite frankly, Zach, none of us are.”

“Oh fuck, Chris, no.” Zach pleads. “I can’t do this without you.”

“I shouldn’t have to live like this Zach. My life was fine as it was. I don’t want you hurt, but you can’t expect me to accept how I’m being treated.”

“No,” says Zach. “You shouldn’t. But I don’t know what I’m doing either. I’d never met a Vampire until I came here. Fuck, I barely know the customs of my own kind! I don’t want this for you, I wouldn’t wish any of it on anyone, but the thought of not having you there, having you here, I just… And fuck the whole Imus thing, this isn’t about that. I don’t care about it anymore. It’s you I need, just you. Chris the man, not the Vampire.”

“Shit, Zach,” Chris whispers. The pull is too strong. They both lean forward at the same time, their mouths coming together in an urgent kiss. Zach’s warm arms go about him and after a moment’s hesitation that his arms won’t be as comforting, Chris engulfs Zach’s torso, glad the Were only presses closer.

“Don’t go, please don’t go,” Zach begs against Chris’s lips.

“I won’t,” he murmurs. He tries not to spoil the moment by thinking of how this really is just temporary and that he will eventually have to leave, but with Zach’s body against him, and his hands smoothing up and down his back, he’s beginning to lose all focus.

“I’m sorry I ever…I never meant…” Zach says between kissing. “Please tell me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay for now.”

They eventually break apart, but Chris feels even more confused and worried and very unsure. What the fuck’s happened here? Zach suggests a movie and Chris agrees, if only to try and distract his mind for a while longer before the crazy thoughts and feelings crowd in again when he’s home alone.

When the not-so-early hours approach, even though the movie hasn’t finished, Chris stands. “I should get going,” he says.

“You sure?” asks Zach. Chris heads for the door, and Zach follows to see him out. “Hey, I was wondering…If you don’t have any plans yet, what were you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh,” says Chris, startled. “Probably the usual. In other words, nothing.”

“It’s just, with my family so far away, I thought, if you’d like to, would you be open to maybe coming over here?”

“Really?” says Chris, and his melancholy melts a little. It’s a pleasant surprise. “Yeah, sure, I’d love to.”

“Okay, cool,” says Zach. “I know it’s short notice.”

“No problem, but don’t go to any trouble on my account,” he says and it’s hard to ignore the smile in Zach’s eyes after so much pain.

“Not too much trouble, but you _will_ be my guest.”

“As long as you’re not going overboard, I look forward to it. See you round, man,” says Chris, grabbing Zach’s shoulder in a kind of goodbye squeeze before he pulls the Were forward, kissing Zach’s lips firmly. He pulls away, looking worriedly at Zach, pretty sure his eyes are quite round. “I, um.”

But Zach grabs Chris’s shirtfront and pulls him in, pressing his mouth hard against Chris’s.

Chris responds in kind, grabbing the back of Zach’s neck, his mouth a frenzy of sucking and licking. Unlike the previous kiss, which was slower and sadder, this time there’s a hunger, a need and Chris knows he will have a very hard time letting that go. It feels as though Zach’s warmth seeps into him and he pushes against the Were, grunting in pleasure as Zach rubs against him. Zach shoves him up against the door, his hands either side of Chris’s shoulders, effectively trapping him. But Chris has no desire to go anywhere, wanting the kiss to go on forever.

He cups Zach’s dick, feeling the swell of it pressing against the Were’s fly as he massages. “God, Chris,” Zach breathes, unable to resist pushing his hips forward.

Zach manages one-handedly to open Chris’s jeans and delves into his boxer briefs so the Vampire can feel the sudden warmth against his cock. “Oh, Jesus,” Chris murmurs, feeling himself thicken.

Zach’s hips thrust purposefully against Chris’s hand and he moans as he begins a slow frot, and Chris gets the idea that he’d like a little more than just the friction of fabric. But time is against him, and he regretfully wrenches away, cupping Zach’s face and seeing pure want in the Were’s eyes. “I have to go,” he says. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” says Zach, backing away as he rubs at his mouth. Chris figures it feels the same as his, all achy-tingly.

“Do you want me to come back, when it’s dark?” he asks, rezipping.

“Yes,” says Zach, without hesitation.

“Okay, I’ll come straight over.”

Zach pushes him up against the door, his mouth urgent, but releases him just as quickly. “See you tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Chris, breathless. “See you then.”

Chris runs home, hauls open his door, and locks it quickly once he’s inside. He strips off his clothes, hanging onto the t-shirt Zach loaned him. As he climbs into his box he balls it up. His mind is a maelstrom of Zach’s face and body and hands and warmth. It stirs in his belly, and he takes up his still hardened cock, stroking himself, as he considers Zach naked and drags the scent of the Were’s shirt into his nose.

“Jesus,” he murmurs as he comes. He feels delighted and giddy, but above all, terrified.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach reconsiders his position in LA and Chris finds himself in a difficult situation when he rescues a friend from a Vampire attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, gore, classist and privileged behaviors.

Zach closes the door, the chill of Chris’s touch still prominent on his lips, his chest, his dick. In spite of the Vampire’s temperature Zach’s cock is harder than ever. He leans against the door, heart pounding, but he’s thankful Chris is coming back the following night. He’s not sure he can keep up the premise of Dominus and Imus. It’ll kill him to expect Chris to behave in any other way except as himself. Chris made his feelings clear, but what frightens Zach more is the fact that this is meant to be a temporary arrangement, and though they never set a date, he’s pretty sure Chris will be asking the question soon as to when he’s going to find a replacement.

But he already knows the answer to that. He’s not going to replace Chris. Why subject another Vampire to the same mistreatment that Chris has been forced to accept? And after the moment shared at the door, what does that mean for them now? And without Chris as his pseudo Imus, is there any possibility of nurturing their fledgling relationship? Oh shit! Is that what they’re heading for?

The crazy thoughts don’t let up, as he feeds Noah and Harold before going to his bed, and lying prostrate across the duvet. Zach feels a swell of something in his chest. It makes him nervous, but happy—and yet wildly uncertain. For a horrible moment he considers Matt, but only because he’s worried that perhaps Chris is inadvertently his rebound guy. His semi-hard cock thickens, producing a wet spot at the prospect of being with Chris. Being _with_ Chris! Is it too early to be thinking of him like this? Zach wonders if he’s simply filling a void to compensate for being alone. It’s been over four months since he and Matt broke up, but the sex went into a spiraling decline weeks before that. Stupidly, his mind takes him back to the time he and Matt last made love. It was before he’d told his boyfriend about his getting an interview for his dream job in LA. After that Matt barely let Zach near him, just the occasional hand job if he was lucky. Zach realizes his love life pretty much died that night.

He shivers; it’s cold in the apartment, he can feel it in his fingertips. He touches his cheek and feels his fingertips are freezing. He frees his throbbing dick, wishing it was Chris’s hand wrapped around it, but gasps all the same when his own icy fingers envelop him. Worried he’ll lose the sensation, he jerks himself quickly, swapping hands when one begins to warm against his hot cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters when the new, colder hand takes hold. Chris’s face and mouth and teasing smile heighten his lust and force the pre-come to spill over the head. He comes over his shirt, groaning loudly as he bucks into his hand. Shuddering spasms roll through him before his orgasm subsides and he gently strokes his wilting dick with his still chilly fingertips. He undresses, and takes a long shower, wanting nothing more than to have the Vampire here, wrapped around his too-warm body.

Completely shattered from a full on night, and with the first light of dawn driving the gloom from the apartment, Zach slips between his covers and allows his mind to drift through images of Chris’s face, his smile and the dangerous way he looked with Zach’s package in hand. His cock begins to stir when he envisages the Vampire’s cool, firm palm against him. He rolls over with a groan, too tired to respond and hopes sleep won’t let him suffer for long.

Zach wakes mid-afternoon with Harold curled up behind his knees, and Noah’s less than delightful doggie breath in his face.

“Jesus, Noah,” he mutters, pulling back the bedclothes and clambering out of bed.

He makes a quick breakfast, anticipating Chris’s arrival with a jumble of butterflies in his stomach. Chris might be feeling the same way, considering the way in which he reacted during the kiss. Who knows where it would have ended up, had it not been almost dawn?

It’s probably less than encouraged, fraternizing with a Vampire, but he’s not sure if it’s entirely forbidden. Of course, he could be reading too much into this when all they did was kiss, and fondle a little. He doesn’t want to consider how his father would react, but he does think his mother would perhaps be a little more open to it, even if she still worried at the fact that he was seeing a potential killer. But Chris isn’t a killer. His nerves are turning to jelly as darkness descends. Was this a mistake? Should he have waited a few days? Oh God, he’s invited him to Thanksgiving, what will he feed him, his _own_ blood?

When Chris doesn’t show with the first twinkle of starlight, Zach’s nerves are about to snap. He can’t imagine why the Vampire would be running late, or why he wouldn’t have at least called. He can’t sit still, and begins nervously pacing the apartment, trying not to look at the clock when his phone buzzes, announcing a text message.

_Can’t make it tonight sorry. Chris_

Zach’s heart deflates. A text? And a rather blunt one at that. It’s ridiculous really; Chris is his own person, and clearly he sees them as just friends, or maybe associates or whatever term can possibly describe this arrangement they have going. He’s surprised at how disappointed he feels, and even more so now that he can’t go out without Chris, even if he needed to.

_sure, no problem. catch you later,_ he texts back. It’s really for the best, because there probably _is_ some pathetic law or rule that says ‘Thou shalt not fraternize with Vampires!’ But he still feels down about it. _Damn you, Chris!_

Had Zach known how complicated his life would become he would have seriously reconsidered applying for the job at WOLPh altogether. It’s been less than three weeks and already he’s embroiled in a society completely foreign to him. The world of Weres seems so far beyond his own upbringing, let alone the dangers of living as one here in LA. What makes the situation worse is the growing certainty that he has a target painted on his back. It doesn’t make any sense; why would anyone want him dead? He tries to think of all the people he may have wronged in some way since he stepped off the tarmac in LA. Has he inadvertently pissed someone off? And if he has, they must someone with connections to Vampires—or Werewolves with Imus, since Chris seemed to think that’s what they were.

Most of the people he’s met since the move are his colleagues. But it doesn’t make sense that a guy who’s been with the company all of five minutes could manage to make an enemy angry enough to want him dead.

Perhaps he should just go to the police. He knows Weres work in the Force, but he’d have to ask someone who he could go to. And the person to ask would be one of his colleagues at WOLPh. Maybe Leonard. But how is he going to explain he’s being attacked by Vampires? And wouldn’t Leonard tell him it’s why he needed an Imus in the first place? Maybe it’s his own fault for not taking the notion seriously enough. Would he even be contemplating the threat to his life if he’d gone through the selection process and been allocated a true Imus?

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes sitting back in the sofa as he plays the circumstances over in his head. Whoever it is that wants him dead is sending out more killers with each attack. So if the danger is here, why on earth is he staying? Since the trouble all began here in LA, wouldn’t it be better to get himself out of the firing line? If he went back to Pittsburgh he’d be safe, Chris could go back to his life, and maybe whoever it is that’s against him will see the threat is gone, and everything will just go back to what it used to be.

And that’s when he decides he’s had enough.

Zach’s half way through writing his letter of resignation when he stops, and shoves the laptop away. He pulls out his phone, checking the time. LA’s three hours behind Pittsburgh; it’s early on the East Coast, but not obscenely.

“Hello?” says Joe’s croaky ‘I’ve just woken’ voice.

“Joe, it’s me, Zach. Didn’t you see who was calling?”

“Dude, it’s not even five in the freaking morning yet. You’re just lucky I hate my ring tone enough that I have to answer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just getting a little desperate,” he says and can hear Joe arranging himself, probably propping himself up, or snuggling further into the bed.

“Desperate about what?” he asks, smothering a yawn.

“I think it’s time I came home. I’ve started my resignation letter. I’ll give them a week or two then catch a flight home, pick up all my shit later.”

“Okay, what the hell are you doing calling me at fuck o’clock in the morning to tell me you’re quitting? The fuck, Zach? What’s going on?” Zach hears Joe moving, like he’s sitting up. He can hear the rumpling of bedclothes.

“There’s a lot of shit happening, and it’s becoming a bit overwhelming. I have to follow all these rules, and watch out for Vamp-- my Imus.” He stops himself since he doesn’t want to worry Joe about the Vampire attacks. But it’s part of the reason he’s called, another weight he has to bear.

“Shit, you have an Imus now? Jesus, Zach, you’re gone for a second, and you already have an Imus!”

“I know, it’s getting out of control. I’m not cut out for this.” He takes a shuddering breath, shoves a hand through his hair. “And Jesus, Joe, I almost killed on the full moon.”

“That’s what we do,” says Joe. “At least it’s what we would do if there were a few more Vampires around here. It’s instinct, dude. Don’t beat yourself up over something that’s been ingrained into you since evolution.”

“But they were people,” he says.

“Exactly, they _were_ people. Now they’re not. And the fact that they’re no longer people means they’re now a _threat_ to people, _real_ people, like Mom. Don’t you remember the lessons Dad took us to?”

“I’ve tried to forget. It didn’t feel right when I was out there. I knew what I was doing, even as the Wolf, but it just seemed so wrong.”

“You’re just not used to it,” says Joe, sounding sympathetic. “It’s part of the reason Mom moved us to Pittsburgh. She knew what we’d become and I guess she thought she was doing the right thing when she took us away from it all. There were times when Dad would come home from the night of a full moon, before either of us was old enough to transform.”

“Good old puberty,” mutters Zach.

“Mom would sleep in the spare room for days afterwards. She hated it. One night, just before Dad died, she actually left the house.”

“She what?” Zach never knew his mother was so against the full moon culling. “I don’t remember that at all!”

“You were probably too little, Dad came home full of energy and strength like always, but Mom looked as though she hadn’t slept. I’d never seen her so…defeated.”

“Poor Mom.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t pleasant, but Dad was dead soon after, and we moved before the next full moon came. You should call Mom.”

“Joe, do you know how Dad died?”

“I was told it was a car accident, but I still don’t believe it. I don’t know, it just didn’t seem right, it’s too early in the fucking morning to think about this.”

“Yeah, sorry man.” But his mind is a tumble of memories as he considers Joe’s insight about his parents. He also remembers being told it was a car accident and when he’d gone in to see his father he believed it. His father had looked like hell, but Zach’s memories are too vague for him to recall any real detail.

“Look, don’t let it all beat you, man,” says Joe stifling a yawn.

“It’s not just that,” says Zach thinking about the attacks. He wants to tell Joe because his brother has always been there for him. But he decides to leave it. He’d rather speak to Chris…a Vampire he trusts more than his own kind. “There’s just, I don’t know, it’s complicated.” He feels the slow descent of his heart. It obviously reflects in his voice.

“Jesus, Zach, you’re stronger than this! You knew it would be a challenge, and you were prepared to give it an honest go before you considered running back. Don’t let anyone else win this. Please.”

He almost breaks his resolve to tell his brother the whole messy situation. But the first thing Joe would do, would be to get on a plane, then his mom would find out and she would call Leonard, then everyone would find out and Zach would be seen as the whiny little shit, crying over the fact that as a Were he gets attacked by Vampires. There’s nothing for it, but to let his brother think it’s all okay.

“I’m sorry, Joe. You’re right.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, you’re right.”

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Fuck you, man,” he says, but it’s made him smile.

“Ha! I’m your brother, I’m allowed to do shit to you that in some states is probably illegal.”

“Yes, yes you are,” says Zach recalling the tortures he’d endured at the hands of his brother, with a smile. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate the shoulder, you know?”

“Anytime, although I’d prefer it if you called during normal hours, you know, when the sun is in the sky.”

“Got it.”

“I’m kidding, anytime, always happy to talk. You do need to talk to Mom, though. Oh, and go do something fun, for God’s sake! Keep in touch.”

Zach feels so much better having spoken to his brother, but he still has a burgeoning dread weighing down his heart. He scans the letter before deleting it and climbs into bed, setting his alarm for a few hours later. Though he’s no closer to a resolution about his current state, Joe said to have fun and there’s one thing he’s been promising himself since he first arrived.

After lunch, Zach pulls into his car space in his brand new, late model Ford Shelby Mustang. It’s metallic navy blue with twin silver stripes running over the length of it. It came with everything, including blue tooth, voice recognition and a roaring V8 engine, which wasn’t the most economical of choices, but it gives his heart a rush whenever he puts his foot down.

He can’t wait to show Chris.

 

Chris wakes, his first thought to let Lucia know he won’t be coming to Bar Sinister tonight. The reason is his second thought: Zach. He climbs out to the cool of evening and takes his time selecting his clothes. He decides to go and see Lucia personally, rather than coldly texting her. Hopefully she’ll understand. She’s never been one to hold a grudge.

After a quick shower and primp in the mirror, Chris makes his way out of the office area and into the comforting chill of a calm winter’s night. The air smells fresh and he heads for the bar at Vampire speed.

He’s almost there when a horrific scream clatters through his ears and he pulls up, listening for the source. It comes again, although softer, more like a whimper; the victim is succumbing to their fate, but there’s still time. He runs to a small recreational field where a winding track for running wends its way through tall leafless birches. There are boulders dotted about and a couple of picnic tables, over which lies a body with a Vampire busily feeding at the neck.

“Get off!” Chris shouts as he races over. The victim is clawing weakly at the Vampire’s head. He grabs hold of the hunched shoulders, yanking them off their feet as he throws them over his head. The Vampire, an elderly woman dressed in a peach velour tracksuit, lands on her feet easily, hissing angrily at the interruption. The blood of her victim has made a considerable stain to the fabric and Chris wonders when she last fed to cause such a messy feeding. “Away with you,” he says. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fuck off,” she barks. “He’s mine!”

The victim makes an awful gurgling sound and Chris takes a chance by taking his eyes off the woman to see how much damage has been done. He recognizes the wide frightened eyes. It’s Anton, clutching at his throat, soaked with his own blood.

“Oh, shit,” says Chris.

The elderly Vampire launches herself with a screech, catching Chris off guard before he has a chance to look back. She barrels into him, her nails scratching his face. He gives her a shove, but she climbs higher, wrapping her legs around his torso, shrieking and hissing as her nails rip into his clothes, tearing up his shirt and digging deep enough into his skin to draw blood. He wrestles her as best he can as she cuts lines down his back and arms. The stain down her front sticks to his face. He’ll look dreadful once he manages to subdue her.

Unsure how much time Anton has left, Chris grips her around the ribs and hauls her off, holding her over his head before he throws her long and hard. She crashes through several trees and lands heavily some distance off. He stops and listens for a moment, but she doesn’t seem to be hurrying back.

Chris assesses Anton, and finds a nasty open wound on the kid’s neck. His blood isn’t pouring out, but the injury is still letting more escape than Chris would like.

“Is anyone allowed to join?” says a voice, and Chris whips around to see Rachel walking towards them. It must look suspicious: he’s covered in blood with a victim lying immobile, a gaping bite mark on the neck. He wants to grab Anton and disappear, but he’s pretty sure that will make the situation look even worse. “Tsk, tsk, feeding from a human,” she says. “What will your Dominus say?”

“What are you doing here?” says Chris, wiping his bloodied hands down his thighs.

“It’s forbidden for Imus to bite humans.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, it’s not how it looks,” says Chris. He’s fairly certain Anton’s life is slipping away. The last thing he wants is the kid’s death on his conscience all because he tried to keep the blame from himself.

“Does Zach know what you’re up to?” she says.

“It’s got nothing to do with you. I need to help him,” he says pointing to the kid who’s gasping and shaking on the table.

“I’m sure you do,” she says but her tone is mocking. “Is your Dominus _allowing_ you to feed from humans?”

“No, he doesn’t know I’m here,” he says, hoping to keep Zach out of trouble.

“Do you have any idea what the punishment is for Imus who disobey their Dominus, especially those who go out and feed from humans?”

“I really don’t have time for this.” He turns to Anton, his arms ready to lift him.

“Beheading,” she says flatly.

He’s not at all surprised; he remembers much earlier days when Weres had been far less tolerant of Vampires by today’s standards. Chris, for all his pleasant memories, has twice the number of bad ones. He’s seen his fair share of barbarity.

“My silence can be bought,” she suggests, and Chris looks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of her fangs.

“Not on your life,” he says. He’s got to get Anton out of here. There’s no way the kid would survive another attack. He’s barely alive now.

Anton makes another awful wet, gasping sound. With his tattered shirt hanging in strips about his waist, Chris scoops Anton off the table and, with Vampire speed, races back to his locker. The cuts and scratches from the old woman’s assault have already healed leaving trickles of drying blood over his upper body.

“Chris,” Anton croaks, huddled against Chris’s chest as the Vampire speeds along the freeway to get home. He can feel Anton’s temperature is too low. His own chill probably isn’t helping.

“Don’t talk, buddy,” says Chris. “I’ve got you.”

Anton’s eyes roll back into his head and Chris can feel his life draining with every second it takes. He almost breaks through the office door and _does_ break the lock to his roller door before he sets Anton down on the couch, leaving him with a large smear of the kid’s blood across his chest.

Anton tries to swallow, his neck working as he desperately clutches to life. Chris bites into his wrist, holding it over Anton’s gasping lips as the flow of blood streams from his flesh.

“Come on, Anton, drink it for me. That’s it, drink it up.” He pumps his fist, biting a second time when his wrist heals too quickly. “Stay with me, I need you to stay with me.”

“I-I didn’t mean…she,” Anton’s whispered voice fights through the wound on his neck and the blood Chris is trying to feed him.

“Don’t talk, kid, okay? Just drink my blood, it will heal you.” When Anton seems a little stronger, Chris bites a third time and holds his wrist close so Anton can suck directly from his arm. He’s not sure how much blood the kid has lost, but the wound on his neck eventually closes, and stops his life from leaking any further away.

Chris feels a little dizzy when he pulls his arm away. Anton’s blood loss meant he needed a lot of Chris’s to heal properly, but Chris just sinks to the floor next to the couch to take a minute. He could use a feed of his own, but that will have to wait.

“Chris,” Anton’s voice says weakly. He’s trying to sit up and Chris immediately goes to him, helping to ease him against the cushions.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. Have I turned?”

“What?”

“The other Vampire drained me and I fed from you. Doesn’t that mean I’ll become a Vampire now?”

“Holy fuck,” Chris stands and stumbles backward. “Are you telling me you went out _looking_ to get bitten?!”

“Not on purpose, but she seemed nice.” Anton must see the horror on Chris’s face. He looks away. “She said she would help.”

“Oh fuck, oh my fuck. Jesus fuck!” says Chris, the volume of his voice increasing with every word. “Do you have any idea how close you just came to _dying_?” He’s pacing in front of Anton, arms flailing as he tries to understand the true reason behind the situation. “She was draining you completely, Anton. She was _not_ going to turn you. It doesn’t _work_ like that. Fuck!”

“I didn’t think you’d get so mad. When I was Vampire I thought you would be happy to have a friend like yourself.”

“Anton, Jesus, I am so fucking pissed off at you right now. And don’t even get me started on what Freda will say; she will _crucify_ you.”

“I’m sorry, Chris. Please don’t tell Freda, she doesn’t have to know.”

Chris wipes his hands over his face, and his fingers come away sticky with old blood. He sits on the couch, knowing he must look horrifying with both Anton’s blood and his own drying on his skin, but then Anton’s appearance isn’t much better. The kid’s covered in his own blood, his clothes stained and his face pale from blood loss and terror.

“You have to promise me you will never do anything so fucking stupid ever. It was blind luck that I was even in the area. If she’d taken you anywhere, _anywhere_ else, you would be dead. Do you understand that? Dead. And fuck knows if anyone would have found your body either. Do you live near that park?”

“Yes,” says Anton, his voice barely a whisper. “I live a couple of streets away. I was on my way to the bar to see you when I saw her and thought…she seemed nice.”

Chris falls back against the couch cushions. “Wasn’t so nice when I fought her,” he says gesturing to the woundless rivulets of blood on his arms and the remnants of his mangled shirt.

“You fought for me?”

“Of course I fought for you.” Anton’s eyes are bright with admiration. “I wasn’t about to let you die.”

“She— _she_ was though.”

“Yes, she was.” He feels bad for the kid, but also incredibly angry. “Never do this to me again Anton.”

“I promise, Chris. I’m sorry. She-she wasn't as nice as you. It really hurt.”

“I think I should get you home now. Do not go out again.”

“Okay,” he says and Chris hopes the kid is suitably chastised. Of all the dumb things to do!

He sends two texts, one to Zach and one to Lucia to let them know he won’t make it to see them tonight. It’s a shitty compromise, but he’s not letting Anton out of his sight until he knows the kid is going to be okay.

Outside Anton’s house Chris asks for the kid’s phone. “If you ever come across a Vampire again, you are to call me first. Do not talk to them, don’t approach them. In fact walk in the opposite direction. But call _me_. Understand?” He types in his number, cringing. He seriously needs to change his phone because he’s had this one for way too long. Well, he won’t be able to get a new one just yet.

“Yes,” says Anton and Chris can see the kid’s barely contained smile as he punches his number into the contact list.

“Good,” he says, handing the device back. “Now go to bed and do not leave your room until it’s broad daylight.”

Anton steps forward and gives Chris a hug. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” says Chris, still pissed, but mostly relieved he’s okay. “Just, yeah.”

“I promise,” says Anton, and goes into the house.

Chris is still uneasy when he gets back to his locker after taking Anton home. There might be repercussions since Rachel saw him with Anton. It’s her word against his and he’s pretty sure whose word will be taken as truth. At the same time he’s angry that his way of life has suddenly come under scrutiny. He’s upset that he might have to let Bar Sinister go, but it all depends on what happens once Rachel tells her Dominus. He thinks about looking for her, but fuck knows where she could be by now. It’s all so severely fucked.

 

The following night, Chris wakes to the sound of his phone ringing and he uses Vampire speed to reach it before he misses the call.

“Hey, Chris; it’s Zach.”

“Hey, man,” says Chris. The Were sounds distant and a little curt.

“Look, I hate to be a pain, but I’m hoping you’ll be free tonight. I need to go into work. Any chance you can come?”

“Oh, um,” he says, his stomach already doing back flips. At first he’d thought Zach had heard about his run in with Rachel, but his last contact with Zach had been a short sharp text. No wonder the Were sounds so terse.

“I realize it’s a Sunday and a huge imposition, but it won’t take long, I promise. Of course if you have something else, or, you know you really don’t want to, I totally understand.”

It’s satisfying to hear the Were ask rather than demand, and Chris senses that even though Zach sounds like he really does need to go to WOLPh, he’d rather endure his superiors’ wrath than go alone. Besides, maybe Peter won’t be there, or maybe Rachel hasn’t yet had the chance to say anything. The fact that Zach clearly doesn’t know isn’t helping with the skirmish going on in Chris’s stomach, but he is still needed, and needed by Zach. “Sure,” he says.

“Okay, great. Come over whenever you’re ready.”

Chris is about to explain what happened, that he’d been rescuing a human and Rachel had mistakenly thought he’d been feeding. But Zach disconnects before he can find the words.  

“Hi,” says Zach, holding the door open so Chris can come in.

“Hey,” says Chris. They stand in front of the closed door. He wants to apologize, but Chris isn’t sure if he can look the Were in the eye, too afraid of what he will see since the last time they were together. He licks his lips and takes a chance, lifting his gaze to see…oh God.

No sooner does he make eye contact than Zach is right there. Chris closes his eyes, hoping the kiss will take away all the problems he’s caused. He worries the Were will be disappointed in him.

Zach groans against him, his hand sliding up his arm and shoulder before it fists in his hair, ensuring there’s no question as to how he really feels. Trapped by the Were’s mouth and body, Chris clings to Zach’s back, as much as Zach wants him Chris can’t stop the niggling thought that he doesn’t deserve it.

“Is something wrong?” Zach asks.

Chris hadn’t meant to kill the kiss with his mood. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, but first let me show you something,” says Zach, clearly excited.

“Sure,” says Chris dubiously. He wonders what Zach could possibly have to show him, as they travel down the elevator, the Were leaning on the opposite wall to Chris, his hands holding the rail behind him.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Show me your thing first. Mine’s going to take a while to explain.”

He can’t look at Zach, and stares at the Were’s shoes instead. When the doors open Zach looks as though he might start jumping about like a kid with the best present. With the thoughts plaguing his mind Chris can’t reciprocate the mood, but then he sees why Zach is so elated.

“Here she is,” Zach says, indicating a magnificent car.

“Oh,” says Chris. “Wow, I guess.” It hits him so hard he actually reaches for something to hold onto.  He dazedly peers through the window at the driver console and sees the multitude of buttons and dials. Zach unlocks it with a distinct beep and the light comes on inside. It’s fucking beautiful and he’s never felt so undeniably wretched. “It’s cool,” he says.

“Cool?” says Zach, looking at him in confusion.

“What did you want me to say? This is awesome, dude!” he says in a clichéd surfer tone.

“Well, that would give me some indication that the choice I made was okay,” says Zach looking totally deflated.

“It’s great, I’m happy for you.”

“Really? You sure? You sound kind of pissed.”

“No, really, I’m thrilled for you and all the other Wolves that get to motor around in their pimped up penises.”

“Okay, whoa, what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?” says Zach, pocketing the keys and crossing his arms.

Chris sighs. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Shouldn’t have even brought it up, but with everything else, the last thing he needed was a kick in the guts when he’s down. “I’m sorry. The car’s awesome. I didn’t mean to kill your buzz.”

“No, I don’t think so, you don’t get to back out of it that easily. What’s wrong, why are you so upset?”

“I’ve never bought a car,” he says quietly. “Let alone a brand new one. I’m not _allowed_.”

“Aw, Chris,” says Zach, his arms flopping to his sides.

“I’ve never owned a car. Stolen a few, but never owned one. It must be,” he pauses his hand reaching to stroke the hood. “Empowering.”

“Chris, I didn’t mean to rub your face in it. I was just excited to show you. Would…would _you_ like to drive?” Zach holds out the keys.

Chris takes a deep breath. He can’t hold Zach accountable for everything the Weres do or have done. And what did he expect, that Zach walk everywhere? He’s the one with Vampire speed. “Nah, man. She’s your baby, but I get shotgun!” Chris walks over to the passenger side and slides into the sleek leather seat that molds around his body, cupping him as he sits. “It is awesome, really,” he says sincerely. “Much better than that shitty rental.”

“I’m glad you like it, and I definitely want you to drive it whenever you want or need to,” says Zach as he slips into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” says Chris. “Wow, it’s been a while since I smelled that.”

“I know right? New car smell, nothing can replicate it.” He guns the engine once it starts, and Chris gives a whoop as the roar belts out through the car park.

Zach smiles as he drives onto the street, pumping the accelerator and causing the back to fishtail before he settles it to the normal speed. “I thought maybe after work we could take her for a real spin. I only bought it today, so I haven’t had a chance to fully appreciate what it can do.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Chris. “We can hit the highway and really see how she performs.”

The ride into WOLPh is not as long as Chris would have liked, and rather than tell Zach about the Rachel and Anton, he sits and stews on it instead. Will Zach be disappointed, annoyed, angry? If she’s told Peter then he would have thought Zach would know by now. Maybe he does know and is waiting for the right time to bring it up as well. It just means more trouble they’ll have to deal with.

When they step into the foyer he decides he’ll just get it over with and tell Zach once they’re upstairs.

Zach shuts the door to his office as soon as they step inside it, and he sees the city in its nighttime glory, he can’t help but be impressed.

“Nice view,” he says, moving to the window as Zach tends to his laptop. Maybe Rachel will be with the other Vampires. He might be able to ask if she’s told anyone about finding him in the park.

“Yeah,” says Zach, already starting to get distracted by his work. “I take it a bit for granted now.”

Chris watches Zach gazing intently at his screen. Perhaps now isn’t the time to disturb him when he’s trying to work. A sudden confession is probably the last thing Zach needs since he’s dragged them both here on a Sunday night. Clearly there’s something urgent he has to deal with, and it isn’t the misadventures of his wayward Imus.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and Zoë comes into the office. Maybe Chris has a thing for eyes, as hers almost have the same effect on him as Zach’s. He’s certain she can see into his very soul.

“Hey, Zach,” says Zoë. Those eyes land on Chris and her eyebrows rise. “Hello,” she says. Chris isn’t sure if she’s trying to smile, or if the simple fact that she’s trying to be friendly towards a Vampire is making her mouth twitch.

“Hi,” says Chris, giving a small wave before he turns as though the bookcase is suddenly extremely interesting.

“Chris, right?” she says. Chris falters for a moment, unsure if he should step forward and shake her hand when she looks at him expectantly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

“Thank you again for the other night. Eric wouldn’t have had a hope if you hadn’t been there,” she says.

“Anytime, ma’am,” he says with a nod. “I’ll leave you to it Zach, and make my way to the, um, place.”

“Oh,” says Zach, “You don’t have to.” Zoë gives him a look of surprise.

“I’m a bit hungry, anyway,” he says backing up to the door.

“Only if you’re sure,” says Zach.

“I’ll come back soon.” He closes the office door behind him, almost relieved he can go and find Rachel and see if she’s said anything. Maybe she’s kept it to herself and he’s been worried for nothing.

He makes his way down the hall to ‘Vampire Day Care’. The prejudice between the species has been around as long as he’s been alive, longer in fact. In his earlier days the cruelty and treatment of his kind was far worse than today, but the segregation between species is still, always, made apparent. The humans, too, were more suspicious, believing that evil could walk the earth. People were slaughtered on a hunch and many innocent people died. Ignorance was a far greater killer than any Vampire, but Chris refuses to shed light on those memories.

He turns a corner and almost runs into someone. “I’m sorry,” he says automatically, looking up to see the guy is only a little taller than himself. It’s Zoë’s Imus, Eric. “Eric, right?” he says.

“That’s right, mate,” says Eric clapping a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “I owe you one, a bloody big one too.”

“Don’t mention it,” says Chris. “I don’t get why they let that guy in if he’s gonna cause trouble.”

“Me either. I know he’s a new acquisition, but the rumor is he’d only been Kine for a few days before she chose him.”

“Oh, okay,” says Chris. “He’s alive though?” He doesn’t know the Kine process, only that he never wants to be made one. He’d like to ask, but is certain that would rouse suspicion since he should have technically been Kine before Zach made him Imus. Or he chose to become Imus. Fuck, it’s getting too confusing. And then he thinks about Victor having to go back to being Kine again, and as aggressive as he was, Chris is worried he had something to do with the Vampire’s fate.

“Yeah, he’s alive, but it was only a matter of time before he was sent back. Apparently she picked him because he looked intimidating. I barely looked sideways at the bastard before he took a hold of me, on both occasions,” he says rubbing his neck at the memory. “They’ll keep him under for a bit longer, I reckon, although he may not get a recommendation for a while.”

“Keep him under?”

“He’s Kine again. Once we’re captured we don’t really have a choice, other than…well, the alternative.”

“You mean becoming Imus?” Chris asks.

“Execution,” says Eric. “Cactus, mate.”

“Oh, shit!”

“Got that right, you headed for Vampire central?”

“Yeah, sure,” says Chris. He follows Eric into the large room and recognizes a few others from the night of the meeting. Rachel isn’t there. They all look at him, their eyes full of disbelief. Obviously they’re all aware of the fight, and how he brought it to a halt with a move that would have sent a human to the morgue.

Eric pours them both a cup of blood from the machine. Chris takes it because he’s starving after the incident with Anton, and missing out on his regular feeding at Bar Sinister. It’s warm, but still tastes pretty shit. He wonders if perhaps it’s an acquired taste. Could he get used to it, perhaps?

And he _still_ has to tell Zach about Anton before he finds out from Rachel, or worse: Peter.

They sit in a couple of armchairs, but as they settle Chris sees a large bite wound on Eric’s neck. Eric can see where he’s looking and touches it.

“Takes a while to heal,” he says, looking away. “She tries to be gentle, but it always takes a week or so. Then before I know it, it’s the full moon again.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh!” says Eric. “Your Were doesn’t drink your blood before the full moon?”

“We…haven’t been together all that long,” says Chris, alarm bells blaring in his head.

“I’d always thought most of the execs here at WOLPh did, but it depends on your Domina—or Dominus in your case, I guess.”

“So your, um, Domina bites you on the full moon?” _What the fuck, Zach?_ When was he planning to tell Chris about this one?

“Yeah, while she’s changing, after we’ve...” he trails off briefly. “They say it makes them stronger.”

“Jesus,” says Chris imagining Zach changing, and biting into him. The thought is terrifying and it makes him shudder. “It can’t be pleasant,” he says.

“It hurts like a bitch, but I know what I’m doing for her. I want her strong and safe during the hunt.”

So Vampires are accepting that Werewolves take their blood to strengthen their chances of killing more Vampires? Even if he actually existed, Chris thinks Spock wouldn’t be able to find the logic in that set up.

“I don’t know if Zach knows that’s what happens.”

“Then get ready for him to ask. He will eventually. When he finds out he’s not killing as many Vamps as his friends here, he’ll get competitive. They always do.”

“I’m not so sure,” says Chris remembering how upset Zach was after the full moon. He hadn’t enjoyed the night’s hunting at all, even though he’d managed not to kill anyone. Chris wonders how the Were plans to deal with the next one.

“I’ve been with Zoë for a while. It may not seem like it to you now, but you’ll form a bond. Okay, sure, we’re still the lower species, but you’ll find you’re Domina, I mean, Dominus will ensure your needs are met just as they would their own.”

“You’re telling me that this set up should be accepted? That Vampires should either become enslaved or die?”

“Not when you put it that way,” says Eric his face showing confusion at Chris’s remark.

“Seriously, man. We’ve been repressed for centuries. Isn’t it time we were able to stand as our own people?”

“But we’re killers. The Weres stop us from killing.”

“Not all of us are killers, and these days there are alternatives. We need blood to live, I get that, but we don’t have to kill in order to get it. Like the stuff they give us in here.”

“Yeah, I guess,” says Eric.

“I’ve only just met Zach, and I haven’t killed in centuries.”

“Centuries? Man, how old _are_ you?”

Chris realizes his mistake and mentally kicks himself. “I was exaggerating,” he says, hoping it’s enough to quell Eric’s curiosity.

“But you’ve been around a while. How is it you let yourself be caught by them?”

“I wasn’t caught. I kind of volunteered.”

Eric nods as though impressed. “Easier life isn’t it? As an Imus, rather than a Rogue, I mean.”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Chris excuses himself from Eric, and helps himself to another cup of blood. His hunger is strong tonight since he gave Anton everything he could to stop the kid from dying. He wants to find Zach, and find out if he knows about the biting of Vampires during the full moon.

He also needs to tell him about Anton.

“Christopher Pine,” says a voice, as though taking attendance.

Oh, fuck. Chris turns to see Peter standing in the hallway with Rachel standing just behind him. He can feel his heart rate pick up and the hairs on his neck prickle. “Mr Weller,” he says.

“I’m glad I found you. Would you mind accompanying me to my office?”

Chris knows he has no choice. He could take Rachel down, but there’s little point in creating a scene here. He’ll only bring trouble to Zach and that’s the last thing he wants. As he follows Peter a small dawn of understanding hits him. A bond forms. And Chris knows, if Fate allows his relationship with Zach to continue, it’ll be an incredibly strong one.

“Please have a seat,” says Peter, indicating a chair opposite his desk as Rachel closes the door and goes to pour drinks. She hands Chris a tiny shot of blood and Peter some kind of amber liquor that Chris thinks is probably scotch. She sits in the chair next to Chris, her own shot glass of blood on a small table between them. He looks at her, but she’s looking straight ahead at Peter, giving nothing away as to whether or not she’s told anyone. “Now, Chris,” Peter begins. “As we’re all aware, you’re the Imus of Zachary Quinto?”

“Uh, yes,” says Chris wondering why Peter is asking, if everyone already knows.

“So, can you tell me a bit about how you came to be one of our Kine?”

“Oh.”

“We have a rather large hole in our database regarding your existence here.”

“Zach found me,” says Chris, unable to think of anything else.

“I see,” says Peter shooting a glance at Rachel, but all she does is continue to watch Peter.

“Why don’t you tell us how old you are?” Peter asks.

“Twenty six,” says Chris referring to the age he’s been since he was turned.

“And when did you first turn twenty six?”

“Two hundred and fifty years ago,” he says, keeping his face stoic.

“Right,” says Peter writing something down. Chris thinks Peter looks disappointed. “Been around a while then? Bet you’d make a great school guest speaker.”

“Sure,” says Chris, confused at Peter’s switch to jocularity. He steals a quick look at Rachel. She hasn’t said anything about Anton. She can’t have, or surely Peter would be bringing it up.

“Why do you think we use our own Kine to become Imus?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Because we know where they’ve come from, we’ve kept them under sedation; some have been under for years. And we know exactly what will happen once that Kine becomes Imus.”

“A slave,” says Chris.

“I beg your pardon?’ says Rachel.

“Imus is just another word for slave isn’t it?”

“I prefer the term _subordinate_ ,” says Peter. “And they’re given a hell of a lot of privileges.”

Chris keeps quiet, as much as he would like to demand what could possibly be considered a privilege, because it’s Zach who’ll take the brunt should he step out of line. Jesus, there’s that bond thing again, but even so, he’s not about to throw Zach headlong into trouble.

They’re interrupted by Karl, who knocks and enters, taking in the scene before looking apologetic.

“Sorry, Peter; could I have a word?” he says.

“Yes, of course,” says Peter.

“We were done anyway,” says Chris, leaping from the chair and making for the door. “It was a pleasure,” he says to Peter and Rachel before closing the door and taking a huge sigh. But Peter’s interest in him makes him restless. He really wants to speak to Zach.

He’s almost at Zach’s door when he hears Zoë’s voice. “Did you hear she’s lost him? People are asking why it took so long when that night at Cerberus wasn’t the first time.”

“What happened to him?” says Zach.

“He’s gone to our other facility at Joshua Tree. Danica’s in the process of selecting a replacement.”

“Oh,” says Zach. He sounds disappointed, but Chris is pretty sure it’s because it reminds Zach of the need to find an official Imus, rather than his actually feeling bad for the hulking Vampire’s plight.

Zoë comes out of the office and Chris watches her leave before he goes in and sees Zach lying back in his chair, his glasses on the desk and his hands entwined on top of his head.

“I’m back,” he says, and Zach sits forward, smiling when he sees Chris.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough. Feel like going for a drive?”

Chris is anxious because he still needs to tell Zach about the previous night. But since they’ll finally be alone in the car and he’ll be guaranteed Zach’s attention, he welcomes the opportunity. “I couldn’t think of a better plan.” He also needs to tell Zach about Rachel and Anton, but at the same time he wants to ask about the biting thing at the full moon. Surely Zach would tell him if he knew about it, but he also wonders if maybe the Were is holding back, too worried Chris will bolt if he finds out.

As much as he wants to be with Zach right now, he’s dreading learning the truth.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach thinks he's figured out who might be trying to kill him. Over Thanksgiving dinner, Chris talks more about his past and reveals what happened the night of his turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pinto de Mayo!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Chris talks about previous sexual relationships in detail.

Zach wonders what happened after Chris left his office. He’s barely said a word since they got to the car. Chris is just looking out the window, but Zach still gets a thrill every time the car starts and that powerful engine growls to life. He turns the car right instead of left to get to the highway.

“What’s eating you, man?” asks Zach. Chris has been so moody since he showed up at the apartment. He’d had something to tell Zach, but when he’d first brought it up they’d got a little distracted with each other. Then Zach had showed Chris the Mustang and the Vampire hadn’t really had a chance to say anything after that.

“Last night I found this guy I know being attacked by a Vampire. We were at a park and Rachel showed up. She thought I was feeding.”

“But you weren’t?”

“Of course not!” says Chris. “She saw him covered in blood, _me_ covered in blood because his attacker had ripped me to shreds, but assumed I was the one feeding since I was the only suspect, I guess.”

To finally hear it makes Zach both relieved and worried at the same time. He’d taken Chris’s word that the Vampire didn’t hunt, although it could be a problem if Rachel thinks otherwise.

“Please say something,” says Chris.

“You didn’t explain to her what was happening?”

“There wasn’t time. I was on my way to the bar when I found them. Anto0n, the guy, he was being drained by a Vampire. She was killing him, and I had to stop her. I fought her off but then Rachel showed and thought the worst. He was dying; there wasn’t much time for explanations.”

“Okay,” says Zach. He’s glad Chris went to the aid of a human, even if the situation was misunderstood. Besides, since they came to the agreement of Chris being his Imus, it should really be his job to ensure the Vampire is fed. Even if the whole set up is a ruse, he feels partly to blame. If Chris hadn’t had to go to his bar, then he wouldn’t have got into trouble. But then this Anton guy he’d saved would be dead. Can’t argue with that! “I’m the one who wanted you as my Imus; I should make sure you have blood.”

“But I have clients who come to me. I don’t need you to feed me, and I can’t just abandon them.”

“You might have to. I don’t know if Rachel has said anything. Neither Peter nor Leonard has come to me about it, and though I know it wasn’t the case, this won’t work if you’re seen feeding from humans. You’re kinda meant to _belong_ to me.”

Chris looks away, licks his lips before biting at the top one. “You’re asking me to give up my way of life, dude.”

“Yeah,” says Zach quietly. What the fuck is he doing? “I’m sorry, you’re right. But nonetheless, I should be the one providing for you. If I promised to do that, if I made sure you never went hungry, would you maybe consider giving up the bar?” The Vampire looks at him. This arrangement was meant to be temporary, and Zach knows he’s asking a lot. “You know what, forget it man, it’s too much to ask, not to mention unfair.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble, and well, I’ll have to give it up anyway. If you can ensure I won’t starve I’ll give it up for you.”

“Nah dude, it’s not fair to you.”

“We said this was a temporary arrangement from the start. Besides, I have to leave anyway. Not yet, but soon.”

“What? What do you mean, leave?”

“Do you want to know how old I am?”

Zach slows for a set of lights giving him time to absorb the odd question that’s come from nowhere. “Well, I can’t deny I’m curious, but what’s that got to do with—”

“I’ve been Vampire for four hundred and ninety-nine years.”

“Jesus!” says Zach, staring at Chris in disbelief. He grips the wheel harder as it occurs to him that the Vampire he’s been hanging around with has been living since the time of Henry the eighth. “But…you said you were two hundred and fifty. Now you’re telling me you’ve been here since _Columbus_?”

“Not quite, but I came with the first colonies. Look, there’s a few things you should know about me, and I think maybe it would be safer if we parked somewhere rather than endangering ourselves by you getting too distracted.”

“Yeah, good point,” says Zach, nodding in agreement. The last thing he needs is an accident with Chris unloading surprise after surprise on him. He’s disappointed that he’s not going to be able to give the car a serious test, but Chris directs him to a small children’s park, completely deserted at this hour. He turns off the engine and turns towards Chris. “Go ahead, shock me some more.”

“Okay, so you know I’m, well, old. The bigger problem is I’m coming to an age where I’ll have the ability to turn people.”

“Oh shit, you’ll become Rakdanava,” Zach breathes. He remembers the meeting where Peter stressed that they needed to be on the look out for such creatures.

“Yeah, I’ll be a regular blood demon.”

“That’s what it means doesn’t it? It’s some ancient word to describe it.”

“Sanskrit. We’ve been around a while; well, longer than the first languages. They were the ones to give it a name, or so I’m told.”

“You said you were coming to the age, when does it happen?”

“February sixteenth,” says Chris with a sigh.

“That’s not all that far away, dude,” says Zach. “It’s less than three months!”

“Yes, but I’ve already been planning for it.”

“What will happen to you?”

“I’ll be overcome by an intense desire to feed and, unless restrained, I’ll bite and feed from as many humans as I can find. In a city like LA, you can imagine how many that has the potential to become. My saliva turns into an extremely potent drug that causes a chemical imbalance in a human.”

If he’s that much of a danger, Zach can’t understand why Chris would leave it so long before he removed himself from any potential victims. “So why don’t you leave now?”

“I plan to; that is, I was about to when I got a little waylaid.” His eyes keep looking between Zach and the dashboard. “I still have to. This isn’t going to be permanent, but I can’t leave you unprotected.”

Zach can’t look away; he’s trapped by those beautiful eyes that are so full of sincerity. He can’t believe Chris is willing to stick around and see him safe in spite of his own need to leave. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve already planned everything. I found an abandoned mine in the Nevada desert, north of Las Vegas. I’ve prepared it with explosives, so when the time comes the mine will collapse and trap me inside. By the time I get out I’ll be more worried about shelter than food. I’ve got all the specs. It should work.”

“So it’s just for a night?” Zach asks. “You can come back after it’s happened?”

“The crazy feeding on anything that moves passes, but I’ll have the ability to turn a human from that day forward. I’ll be Rakdanava.”

“So how do you feed after that? If you can turn humans, won’t your bite affect them from then on?” Zach had no idea Vampires were so much more complicated than he’d initially thought. He can’t explain why he turns into a Wolf every full moon, but Vampires seem to have a few more unexplained abilities. For the first time he wishes he’d spent a little more time learning the ways of Were here in LA, that his mother hadn’t whisked them all away so quickly.

“Not if they have my blood afterwards. If they get a dose of it, the change won’t happen.”

“Oh,” says Zach, still trying to figure it all out in his mind. “I wonder if that’s why Peter wants to know your age. I’m not all that clear on how a Kine is processed when they first come to WOLPh. I’m not assigned access to those systems. But Peter said we had to keep a look out for Rakdanava.”

“Really? Glad I gave a false age then. What does WOLPh want with a Rakdanava?”

“I would assume to stop them from making more Vampires. Since you’ve already given them an age, maybe it’ll stop the questions.”

“Maybe, but let’s not forget the issue of you being attacked. Where does that fit in to all of this?” says Chris. “Although they seemed to have stopped since I became your pseudo Imus,” he finishes conclusively.

Chris’s comment has Zach thinking. It’s true, they were happening so regularly, but they stopped after the one that occurred when Zach took Chris to the meeting at WOLPh. No one knew about Chris until that night. Zach swallows as a tight squeeze takes hold of his stomach. What if the attack had been planned expecting Zach to be alone?

“Oh, God. You’re right,” he whispers. “Someone _has_ been trying to kill me. I didn’t have you until that meeting at WOLPh the other night. The attack at the parking lot, sure they fucked it up a bit, but it happened anyway as though planned, knowing I would go to help a human.” Zach remembers Leonard’s story of how he helped rescue Peter. Could it be true? Whoever may be instigating the attacks was banking on his instinct to save a human. “They just hadn’t anticipated you.”

“Oh, shit,” says Chris. “But who would want you dead?”

Zach shrugs, “I really don’t know. I haven’t been here long enough. At least I didn’t think I had.”

“Well, you’ve pissed off _someone_. What’s happened since coming here that might be considered a big enough deal for someone to kill you?”

Zach tries to think, tries to consider what it is he’s done that would warrant his death. Surely he hasn’t been here long enough to cause so much trouble. He hasn’t done anything, said anything, been given…oh, shit. “The company,” he whispers.

“What?”

He turns as best he can to face Chris fully. “Leonard wants me to take over WOLPh when he can’t work anymore. He didn’t say when, but he wants me to be head honcho when he leaves, or retires or whatever. Do you think that would be it?”

“Holy shit, yes! You’ll be inheriting a company worth billions. I’d say that’s motive enough for someone to want you dead. Who was first in line before you took this job?”

“I don’t know. Peter maybe? Zoë? Nah, I don’t think Zoë wants me dead.”

“Yeah, but how’s your dealings with Peter? All sugar and spice?” asks Chris, raising his brows.

A dark and heavy glob of dread descends through Zach’s chest and into his gut. Oh, fuck, Peter has been trying to kill him. Peter hates him enough to want to wipe him from the city. “Jesus,” he murmurs. “Peter wants me dead.”

“Okay, easy, do you have proof?”

“Not hard evidence, but it makes sense. If I hadn’t taken the job, Leonard would probably have given the company over to him. I need to speak to Leonard. If he says that Peter was first in line, then that’s got to be proof enough he’s trying to get me out of the way.”

“When will you speak to him?”

Zach checks his watch. “Now, I guess. The sooner I speak to him the better. If the only reason the attacks have stopped is because of you then I need to see him before you go.” He makes the call, but it goes directly to voicemail. “Hey Leonard, it‘s Zach. Something urgent has come up and I really need to speak to you. If you could please call me as soon as you get this. Thanks.”

“Look,” says Chris. “I can stick around for a little longer, but you’ll need to find a replacement before I turn. You can’t honestly expect me to walk into that building as a Rakdanava. We agreed this was temporary.”

“I know,” says Zach sorrowfully. “I’m sorry this has happened, Chris. I didn’t mean for it to become so much more complicated. I figured a meeting here or there, perhaps a couple of outings. I guess I’m taking it for granted that I’m safe with you, and even though WOLPh are always on the look out for Rakdanava, I guess I was a bit too naïve to think that hiding in plain sight would be best for you too.”

“I can’t be Imus, Zach. As it is, all this pretending just seems like a red cape, it’s only a matter of time before the bull comes charging at us.” He pauses before taking a breath. “Tell me about Weres biting their Imus on the full moon.”

“What?” asks Zach, his brows drawn together. “Since when do Weres bite Vampires?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. I was speaking to Eric at WOLPh and I saw the bite on his neck. He said it happens on the full moon, when his Domina is changing, Zoë—she bites him.”

“Oh. Wow. I did not know that. Did he say why?” His vague memories after having Vampire blood are ripe with arousal and a face that’s speaking to him now.

Chris narrows his eyes. “To give her strength while she’s out hunting Vampires, apparently.”

Weres gain strength with Vampire blood, that’s very new. But why would Weres need even more strength during a full moon? They’ve always been more powerful than Vampires on that particular night. He collapses back in his seat. “Man, I seriously did not know that. You know I would never expect it of you, right?”

“Well, I would fucking hope not!” says Chris. “Jesus, as if Wolves don’t take enough as it is.”

“Dude, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”  

Chris sighs and stares out the windshield. “Will it ever stop?”

“What?”

“The oppression.”

“I don’t know,” says Zach softly. He can hear Chris’s heart thumping loudly against his ribs. He knows the Vampire doesn’t want his pity, would loathe him for it if he knew, but he does wish he could change Were society’s view of him. “It would take a lot of change to do that.”

“One Were at a time,” says Chris and Zach is surprised when the Vampire’s hand settles on his thigh.

Zach takes Chris’s hand. “Yeah, at least it’s a step in the right direction.” He’s still not used to how cold the Vampire feels, but it’s thrilling rather than objectionable. He strokes the back of Chris’s hand with his thumb, smiling when he hears Chris’s heartbeat pick up its pace. He certainly never gets sick of that, and in fact it’s that very sound that has him barely in control of himself whenever he comes close to the Vampire.

“Zach,” says Chris, his voice low. “Are you sure about this?”

“Very,” says Zach entwining his fingers with Chris’s. Jesus, yes, the cold of him feels too damn good to give up. He hasn’t been told it’s wrong, or worse, forbidden. “Otherwise I’ll become an old man with a life that was really dull.” Chris’s hand squeezes and Zach can feel the underlying strength. Chris could easily break his hand, but the way he’s gently toying with Zach’s fingers reassures the Were that Chris will only use that strength to protect him.

He’s frightened, and though he can hear Chris’s elevated heart rate, he’s grateful the Vampire can’t hear his. He considers how close he was to running back to Pittsburgh, to absolute safety, and the protection of his family. But he can feel the tremor of dread when he considers a life without Chris, without knowing the man behind the fangs. He trusts Chris implicitly; an enemy to his kind, but Zach feels safer in the Vampire’s presence than he does surrounded by Weres.

Zach slowly reaches for Chris, stroking the Vampire’s jaw as their mouths come together. Chris slides his hand inside the front of Zach’s jacket, and Zach feels his fingertips sweep over his ribs. Zach moves, a hand on the back of Chris’s neck, moaning as their tongues slide against each other. His fingers slip down Chris’s arm until his hand is resting on his thigh. He slides closer, squeezing near Chris’s groin. Chris groans, shifting as best he can, but the car is confining.

“Come back to my place?” Zach murmurs, his hand still on Chris’s thigh slowly stroking back and forth.

“Yeah, sure,” says Chris, licking his lips, his eyes fixed on Zach’s mouth before he looks into the Were’s eyes. “I don’t need to be anywhere.”

 

 

Chris can feel the anticipation mounting inside him. He’s worried that his moves won’t be pleasing to Zach, although there haven’t been any complaints so far. He tries not to think about what this really _does_ mean. He would think it was forbidden—but how he feels, the strength of their connection, is it perhaps the same for all Dominus-Imus pairings? Although they’ve definitely stepped over whatever line was there, he wants to please Zach, and this isn’t going to be a quick jerk-off.

Barely a word has passed between them since they left the playground. Chris is anxious and it’s affecting his heart rate. He’s suddenly too shy to look at Zach, but he’s pretty sure the Were’s smiling at his fluttering pulse. To add to Chris’s anxiety he finds himself wondering who should make the first move. Do they just pick up where they left off? What if Zach’s reconsidered and allowed his…his _Wereness_ to cloud over the vibrancy they’d had in the car? Is Zach even having the same thoughts about the fact that he’s a Werewolf and Chris is Vampire and technically they shouldn’t be anything more than master and slave?

Harold and Noah make the effort to look up before ignoring the interruption and falling back asleep. Clearly two awkwardly-behaving people are of little concern when it comes to the enticement of slumber.

Chris is beginning to wonder if this is a mistake until Zach takes his hand again, just as he had in the car, and presses Chris’s palm to his lips. Chris shudders.

“I like your cold,” Zach murmurs against Chris’s hand. Chris laces his fingers with Zach’s other hand.

“I like your warm,” he says.

With a swift jerk, Zach pulls him close his mouth settling over his as the Were gives a soft, low growl. Chris shudders at the sound and immediately forgets about the taboo of whether their cultures should unite, instead sliding his arms around Zach’s torso.

“I want you,” the Were murmurs against his mouth. “Do you want me?”

All Chris manages is a nod.

Zach’s hand rests against Chris’s chest, right over his heart. “Slow down,” he says.

“I don’t think I can,” says Chris. He places his hand over Zach’s heart, and feels the same fluttering tempo. “You first,” he says smiling.

Zach kisses him again, but at the same time pulls him back towards the great white bed. Chris manages to slide out of his jacket, taking Zach’s lead as he, too, sheds his clothes. He kicks off his shoes, feeling a little self-conscious even though he strips in front of his clients on a weekly basis. He’s relieved in a way because he worried that he would see Zach as just another client, but this is different, and he hasn’t felt like this in a very long time.

He stands naked in front of Zach, inches away from the plush duvet that covers Zach’s enormous bed. Zach reaches forward and carefully takes hold of Chris’s semi-hard cock. Chris’s breath hitches as the Were’s warm touch envelops him. He leans his head against Zach’s shoulder, unable to look him in the face, as he fears what he’ll find in those amazing eyes. He can’t believe that even though he’s the one who spends time pleasuring others, it’s Zach who’s taken control. He knows he needs to stop the comparisons; this is nothing like those times. Zach isn’t a client; he’s not there to find release in being bitten. He wants Chris to feel good just as much as Chris wants to make him feel good.

Zach spits into his other hand and swaps them. His saliva is warm like his hand and Chris grunts, clinging to Zach as the Were continues to stroke him.

“Touch me,” whispers Zach, and Chris knows he’d been waiting for permission. Whether Zach’s aware of it he doesn’t know. “I want to feel you too.” Perhaps Zach thought Chris’s hesitation was his reluctance to make Zach feel cold. But the Were is resting his head against him. He takes hold of Zach’s cock and feels a thrill when he senses him trembling, a groan escaping. Chris takes the moment to look up and sees Zach watching him before the Were kisses him again.

Zach has only been single for a short while, but for Chris it’s been several lifetimes. He thought he’d lose all sense of understanding about what it meant to care for someone, and not just pleasure them because it’s what they wanted. Patrick had been his last love, mentor and friend. The day he lost him Chris was certain he’d never find another that would come close to making him feel this strongly. The fact that this new someone is a Were triggers a thought: love doesn’t discriminate.

Zach pulls him onto the bed and they lie together, face to face, their eyes on each other.

“God, Zach,” Chris breathes when the Were slides a finger over the head of his hard dick.

“You take care of me,” says Zach. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“You think I need looking after?” says Chris.

“You need to let me give back.”

“Oh, Jesus, okay,” says Chris when Zach twists his hand over him, squeezing and pulling at the same time.

“Tell me your fantasies Chris, what do you like?”

“My fantasies?” he asks immediately thinking of Lucia and their bouts of wild sex. “Well, there’s Lucia I guess.”

“Lucia?”

“She’s, um, she’s the manager of Bar Sinister. We would…” He stalls. Would it kill the mood if he began describing what he and Lucia actually do?

“Tell me,” says Zach leaning on his elbow while his head rests on his hand. His hips are flexing in a soft rhythm against Chris’s hand. Then again, maybe the imagery will enhance the Were’s orgasm.

“I pleasure my clients to make the bite less painful. They come, I bite. Lucia is different. She likes to play rough.”

“Rough? Like BDSM kind of rough?”

Chris can see Zach’s intrigued. “Not quite, well, maybe. It’s just she’s the one fulfilling my fantasy. She takes control and it’s her doing the biting.”

“She’s a Vampire?”

“No, she’s human, but she likes the blood. It’s her kink.”

“I see.”

“She, um, also fucks me, with a strap on; it’s a whole conquest thing.”

“Jesus, Chris. You’ll make me come if you keep talking like that.”

“Oh,” says Chris, delighting in the Were’s hissing intake of breath as he curls his hand over the head, smoothing pre-come over it.

Zach kisses him. “Tell me more.”

Zach really seems to be getting off on hearing about things, so Chris decides to let loose. “I prefer to bottom, I always have. My last real lover was Patrick, a Vampire, and we were together for a few centuries. He was demanding and loved to have some element of danger. He’d take me outside, loosen my trousers enough for him to enter me, and then fuck me right where anyone could see.”

“Oh, God,” says Zach with a shudder. His flexing hips gain momentum, and he’s thrusting harder into Chris’s hand. “More.”

“Okay,” says Chris gasping, as Zach’s hand squeezes harder along his length. “One night, the Weres of our county were meeting in the church hall. Patrick got us in without being noticed. The pulpit was up on a stage and behind it was a large curtain, like the kind you see in a theatre. We were behind the curtain when Patrick told me to strip.”

“Keep going,” Zach growls.

“I was naked, kneeling on the wooden floor when Patrick unbuttoned his flies and pulled out his cock. He slapped my cheeks with it before holding it for me to swallow down.”

“Mmf.”

“I sucked him off with my saliva dripping onto my hands as he thrust against my mouth. When their chatter suddenly stopped we realized the Weres were able to hear our heartbeats. Thankfully, with our Vampire speed we were out of there before they saw us. But Patrick wasn’t finished. He found the Den Alpha’s carriage, and pushed me inside. I was on my back with my legs in the air when he fucked into me. He roared when he came, and left his come stains on the floor of the carriage.”

“Oh, fuck,” cries Zach and Chris feels the warm splash of the Were’s come on his stomach. “Then what happened?” he asks, panting.

“He blew me,” says Chris.

Zach nods and gets up, maneuvering himself until he’s level with Chris’s dick.

“Wait, Zach,” Chris says, almost sitting, “You shouldn’t, that is—you don’t have to.”

One of Zach’s eyebrows goes up. “Aren’t you clean?”

“Well, yes, I can’t catch anything, so I can’t transmit, but -”

“Then shut up,” he says and slides his mouth over Chris’s cock.

“Oh, Jesus,” says Chris, his legs splaying. “Zach, you really don’t have to.” He’s not used to receiving pleasure.

“Shh, let me know how I do.”

Chris would like to say he’s better than Patrick, but the truth is he gives head differently. Zach pushes Chris’s legs further apart, holding his cock as his tongue slides along the shaft of it, tasting him with a slow and torturous pace. He nibbles on the way back down and Chris has to stop his hips from lunging forward when Zach nuzzles into his balls, slicking the hair with his tongue before he takes one, then the other into his mouth.

“Oh, oh God, Zach, Jesus,” Chris gasps. He lifts his neck and shudders when he sees Zach working him, that merciless tongue again at the head, licking up pre-come before he plants big wet kisses over the crown and ridge. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes. Zach uses his hand then, pulling on him while his cock is almost horizontal and the Vampire moans as his sensitivity heightens. Zach kisses the base, lifts him again and swallows him down greedily. Zach’s ability to deep throat while gripping Chris with his mouth has the Vampire coming hard. Chris’s hips lurch, as his cream shoots into Zach’s mouth. “Oh, fuck!” he cries, clutching at pillows and covers as his body spasms in waves of pleasure.

“It’s like a mouthful of smoothie,” says Zach, smiling, when he comes to lie back beside him. Chris can smell himself with Zach’s kisses and licks into Zach’s mouth as Zach licks back. The kiss lasts several moments, a soft and gentle caress of mouths, the dancing of tongues and sucking on lips. Chris slides his hands along Zach’s body, sweeping his fingertips over the Were’s back, his ribs and down his arms before they entwine fingers and grip hard.

Chris feels himself stirring again, his dick nudging at Zach’s thigh. He gasps when Zach takes him up again. The head is still sensitive, but Zach’s encouraging. He reaches for Zach and is rewarded with a hearty groan when his fingers slide over his half hard length; a droplet of pre-come already indicates Zach’s desire.

They tug at each other slowly and gently, the kiss continuing though their breathing becomes punctuated with moaning and grunts of appreciation. It’s not until he comes for a second time, gasping and clutching, that Chris realizes he’d completely forgotten about Patrick. 

They eventually clean up when Zach manages to get off the bed and goes in search of a couple of towels. But once the come is little more than a drying slick, they nestle into each other’s arms under the covers.

“What’s a Den Alpha?” Zach asks adjusting his arms around Chris so it’s more Chris in his arms.

“Oh, it’s an old fashioned term when there used to be Were Packs,” says Chris. “Sometimes we use it as a way to refer to Weres, but it’s more slang now. Like the word Pack.”

“Ah, I see. They were phased out a while back?”

“The Revolution was a catalyst for a lot more than you probably know.”

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.”

“I hope you never have to find out. It some ways it was good because it enabled us to fight back for once, but it was a time I’ll never forget, and have no desire to repeat.”

Zach kisses his forehead. “If you ever want to talk, I will listen. I don’t have answers and I may never understand, but I will listen.”

Chris kisses him then, a sweet pressing of mouths. “Thank you.” Zach pulls him back, eager to continue the kiss, but Chris shoves him back against the pillows and yanks back the covers before he palms over Zach’s cock.

“Mm, dude,” Zach moans lazily before giving a sharp hiss. “Easy, I’m super sensitive.”

“Hmm,” says Chris, kissing down Zach’s body while stroking him slowly. “Maybe it needs ice.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Zach gasps, lurching on the bed when the Vampire engulfs his cock with his mouth. “Oh, oh fuck!”

Chris slides off, worried he’s gone too far, “I’m sorry, is it too cold?”

Zach shakes his head vigorously. “Just…unexpected, and I’m _really_ sensitive.”

“Would you like me to stop?” he says his hand moving away, but Zach leans forward and grabs his wrist.

“Hell, no,” says Zach, looking at him intently. “But after this I can’t promise I’ll still be conscious.”

Chris huffs a laugh and when the Were lets him go he resumes his grip and presses his mouth to Zach’s velvet skin. “Pity, as Vampire I can go _all_ night long.”

Zach manages to lift his head to look at him and Chris can see the blown pupils in his fuck drunk face. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Can’t walk in sunshine, or eat regular food.”

Zach falls back, his head lolling as Chris tends to his aching dick. “Not exactly cons in my book, dude…oh, God.”

It doesn’t take long for Zach to come, urging Chris to join him so he can watch the Vampire cream over his stomach. When Zach falls asleep, Chris continues to hold him even though he would think he was too cold to snuggle into. He strokes Zach’s back and thinks of Patrick.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, knowing he’ll never get a reply.

 

“Hi, Mom,” says Zach. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Zach darling, how are you? Happy Thanksgiving, to you too,” says Margot, her surprise and joy at her youngest son’s call apparent.

“Yeah, I’m good, but, well, I’ve been meaning to call you. I’ve done something I’m not proud of. In fact…I’m disgusted with myself. I spoke to Joe but I guess I just needed to speak to you.”

“Zach, honey, what is it?”

“The full moon last week, I didn’t know how bad it would be. If I’d known I would have tried to do something. But Jesus, Mom, I almost killed a Vampire, then helped to kill two others.”

“Oh, Zach,” says his mother, her voice solemn. “I knew once you went back to LA you would be exposed to the true ways of Weres. I’m sorry it’s come to this, love. I feel as though I’ve let you down.”

“You haven’t Mom,” he says feeling a pang in his chest. “It was probably unavoidable. I didn’t even consider it since it was never an issue back home, but right now I need to know what I can do to prevent it happening in future.”

“Oh,” she says, and Zach feels as though she’s reluctant to tell him.

“You know what to do, even though you’re not like us, I know you know.”

There’s a pause and Zach can hear his mother sigh into the phone. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be careful,” he says, rolling his eyes. How often has he heard his mother say that?

“You need to ingest silver,” she says.

“Sorry?” says Zach, though he’s heard her perfectly he can’t fathom the idea that a mother, even a human one, is telling her Were son to eat the one chemical element his kind have absolutely no tolerance for. “Did you say _silver_?”

“Yes, honey, I did. You can buy colloidal silver at most health food shops or even the supermarket. It’s entirely safe, and even beneficial to humans, but it’s not so good for you.”

“Then why am I eating it?”

“It will hinder your transformation. Find somewhere safe, take a tablespoon of silver and prepare for a night of suffering until the full moon sets.”

“Oh my God, Mom, your friends did that every month?” he says, his voice rising.

“Yes, but they preferred to suffer than the alternative,” she says quietly.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath.

“Honey, I understand you’re upset, but blasphemy is unacceptable.”

“Fine, whatever,” he says, his cheeks suddenly reddening as his mother chastises his over thirty-year-old ass.

“Just a tablespoon; it’ll pass through by the following morning and you’ll be fine after that.”

“Okay. One silver slammer and we’ll see how we go then.”

“Zach, please, _please_ be careful. I’m not happy you’re so far away, I miss you so much, and you’re all alone at Thanksgiving.”

“Mom, I’m fine, I have a—” He searches for an appropriate word. “A friend coming over. It’ll be food and football, don’t worry.”

“Alright, have fun with your friend, then.”

“I will, Mom.”

When Zach disconnects he takes a deep breath. He’s been a Werewolf all his life, but so much of the knowledge is elusive and unknown to him. He knew silver was bad, but he had no idea there were Weres out there using it to stop the process of changing into Wolf form. He figures he’ll buy some before the next full moon and see what happens.

The drive in to WOLPh is the best it’s ever been since most people are at home feasting on turkey and sweet potato pie. Because Chris wasn’t Kine Zach believes he’s missed vital information that he would otherwise be given about how to feed his Imus. It seems ridiculous that he’s out to find food for the Vampire, but he certainly can’t have him over and not have at least something on offer.

For a fleeting moment he imagines what it would be like to feed the Vampire himself. Shuddering, Zach’s visions of sharp fangs and spurting blood push the idea firmly from his mind.

Though it’s a public holiday, his pass lets him in, and he sees a few people in the foyer. He figures that not every aspect of WOLPh shuts down just because there’s a day off. He goes to the reception desk where a guy sits on his own.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asks with a smile.

“Um, yeah,” says Zach, sounding every bit the newbie he knows he is. “I, ah, need to get, um, stuff for my Imus.” _Bravo idiot, Oscar-winning performance right there_ , he says to himself.

“Did you not attend the training?” says the guy. “Usually if you’re selected to own Imus they sign you up for a short course.”

“Oh, yes, I was told, but it’s finding the time, isn’t it?” says Zach trying to up his acting without sounding completely pathetic.

“Please ensure you complete the training or you may not be able to continue feeding it,” says the guy, his smile never wavering. “Your name?”

“Zach Quinto.”

“One moment, Mr Quinto.” He picks up the phone and it seems to instantly connect. “Yes, I have Mr Quinto here needing supplies for his Imus…Thank you, I’ll send him down.” He replaces the phone and the same smile reappears. “You need to go to basement level four. There’ll be someone there to meet you.”

“Thanks.” Zach heads for the elevators and uses his pass to select basement level four.

The doors slide apart to reveal a long tiled corridor with bright white walls. There isn’t a single piece of art or a plant or anything, but at the other end of the hall he sees a desk. It takes a while to walk the length of the hall, but once he reaches the other end there’s a woman sitting in a white coat. At first he thinks it’s Lisa from Acquisitions, but when she looks up he sees he’s mistaken.

“Mr Quinto?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m Kasia,” she says, standing to shake his hand. “It’s unfortunate you missed the training, but we can accommodate you for now. Just be sure to complete the course otherwise our records won’t be accurate that you’re a registered owner.”

“Yes, of course,” he says.

“Follow me. I’ll show you where you can collect your Imus’ ration of blood.”

“Thank you.” He follows her back along the corridor to a door almost hidden in the wall. It shows only as an outline and the usual metal panel is white.

“Until you complete the course you won’t have access, but I can let you in for now. We can’t let an Imus go hungry.”

“No,” he says with a nervous chuckle. He considers the agreement he has with Chris and wonders how much more there is to it. Isn’t that how they are, Dominus and Imus? It’s just that Zach treats Chris as an equal rather than his inferior.

Kasia uses her own pass and Zach can feel the cold as soon as the door slides noiselessly open. Inside are rows and rows of blood bags hanging from hooks.

“This is the same as what we provide here in the building. Have you taken it to one of the Holds?

Holds? “Yeah, he was here a few nights ago,” says Zach, hoping he doesn’t look as appalled as he feels.

“So this stuff is the old expired blood that’s of no use for medical purposes, you know, transfusions and such. We oxygenate it and it’s able to be given to Imus.”

“I see,” says Zach. It doesn’t sound all that appetizing, but he’s glad it’s helping reduce waste.

“Does it have a preference?” she asks as she walks into the great refrigerator.

“I don’t know,” Zach replies eyeing the rows of bright red. He feels a little squeamish. “Does it matter?”

“It can,” she says going to a certain row, her finger following the lines of text on the labels. “Some prefer A positive, others B negative. I can’t imagine it tastes any different, but they seem to pick it.”

“Of course,” says Zach feeling his face turn sour.

“Here, give it this. It’s your basic O positive, which most of them like. But if it does prefer a certain kind we can have it sourced and supplied.”

“Okay,” says Zach, gingerly taking the bag from her.

“Oh, and do yourself a favor, buy a bottle warmer; _never_ nuke it.”

Kasia had insisted that he take a cooler bag, saying if it reached room temperature he would have to serve it immediately. Since he’s not even serving it until tonight he takes the silver lined bag. His GPS directs him to Baby Angeles. Never in all his life did he expect to find himself surrounded by so much soft, light, pink and blue decorating. He considers the cliché ‘fish out of water’, but feels it’s closer to ‘fish in outer space’ since that’s how far removed he feels from reality.

Eventually, Zach leaves the baby shop feeling completely alien, a fish alien. He’s had very little to do with young children, and the whole process of selecting the right appliance, making sure he understood how to use it, and did his wife have a particular brand in mind had him entering a wormhole. Short of grabbing the first one he saw he couldn’t stop thinking that it was for Chris, and the last thing he wants is to not get it right.

He puts the bottle warmer on the kitchen table, and tries to remember it’s for a Vampire and not a baby. He stows the still-cold bag of blood in the fridge, making sure it won’t freeze at the back, nor warm up at the front. By the time he’s finished setting the table he has a quick sandwich and readies himself for an afternoon nap.

At first he doesn’t think he’ll be able to drop off after all the running around, but within half an hour, his mind drifting over images of Chris, his eyes begin to feel heavy. Then he, Harold, and even Noah, fall asleep.

 

Chris arrives at Zach’s building just as the sun is dipping below the horizon, turning the sky orange and purple. He licks his lips as he presses the button for the elevator, his hand gripping a bottle of red wine. He can’t drink it, but he didn’t want to show up empty handed. He takes a moment when he reaches Zach’s door, remembering what had happened the last time he’d been here, and his dick twitches at the memory. He’d told Zach about having sex with Patrick, hardly pillow talk, but the Were seemed to like it.

He belatedly realizes that Zach can probably hear him through the door, and he quickly knocks, not wanting to seem as though he’s hesitating; which he is, but not because he doesn’t want to be here. He wonders how long it will take for the uncertainty to abate.

“Chris,” says Zach, as he stands in the doorway.

_Christ, he looks hot_ , thinks Chris. “Zach,” he says, and steps inside on Zach’s gesture of welcome. Though they’re not exclusive, _not yet_ , he amends, he has very strong images of them being together and _not_ as Dominus and Imus. It isn’t helping with the dick situation.

“Thanks, man,” says Zach, taking the bottle and reading the label. “Make yourself at home, I’m nearly done.”

Chris puffs out a breath, and wanders over to the dining table. Zach’s gone to a lot of trouble. In spite of his inability to eat regular food, Chris is touched that Zach has included him with a place setting. The table is covered in an elegant white cloth laid with silver cutlery, and white flatware. The centre of the table hosts a large bunch of white lilies.

This is the first ‘date’ he and Zach have actually planned. Every other time they’ve been together it was spur of the moment, or a requirement of Zach’s work. He swallows nervously, the last time he’d been in this kind of situation was with Patrick, and that was when they first got together almost four hundred years ago. And then it hadn’t been really dating. Chris had accepted Patrick’s offer of an alliance, and then it had become sexual.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” says Zach, and Chris turns to see the Were holding two white bowls. “Take a seat.”

Chris does so, confused as to what Zach is serving, and has to admit Zach’s gone above and beyond when the bowl of rich red blood is placed in front of him.

“Okay, wow,” says Chris, looking up to see Zach has a bowl of soup. “No turkey?”

“I know you don’t mind the whole food thing, but I wasn’t about to make a glutton of myself in front of you. You can learn about my less-than-admirable eating habits some other time.”

Chris has only ever sucked blood from major arteries. It’s a new enterprise to literally eat it with a spoon from a bowl. Though the experience is kind of surreal he’s enjoying the slow-paced ambience of sipping the warm blood off a spoon as opposed to the frantic haste of biting and sucking from a human. It tastes like the stuff they serve at WOLPh, hardly gourmet, but since Zach got it, he’s going to drink every last drop.

“Not meaning to sound rude, but I just noticed your eyes haven’t changed. Don’t they turn red when you feed?” says Zach. Chris self-consciously rubs a finger to his temple, then lifts his spoon to see his reflection. Zach’s right, they’re the same color, no red. He hadn’t even thought about it and wonders if perhaps the phenomenon only occurs when he’s about to feed from humans. “Is it good?” asks Zach.

“Yes,” he replies. “I’ve never had it like this before.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how the other Imus are served. I managed to find out how to get it and how to warm it. If you prefer something else I can accommodate.”

“It’s totally fine, I like it like this. It’s almost—” He stops himself from saying human. “Normal.”

“You already are normal, Chris. I don’t want you to think you have to be something you’re not.”

Chris nods. “It’s just nice,” he says wanting to explain that to him trying to be human, to feel human has been his life’s mission.

“I’m glad you like it.” Chris is almost finished when Zach puts down his spoon and rests his elbows on the table. Chris remembers being admonished centuries ago by an elegant hotel owner. “Would you tell me more about yourself, your past I mean?”

 Chris’s spoon hesitates momentarily before he resumes scooping up the blood. “What did you want to know?”

“Can you tell me about your family?”

“There’s not much to tell,” he says, but Zach deserves to know. “I’m originally from England and my family was from a wealthy background. My mother, father, my sister and I lived in a sprawling house run by a large number of staff. We lived under the reign of King Henry the Eighth.”

“Ha! I knew it,” says Zach. “So you’re a Brit. Pass the scones, sar!” says Zach in a terrible British accent.

“Considering I’ve been living here a hell of a lot longer, I prefer the term American. We didn’t have a Civil War for nothing.”

“Pip, pip,” says Zach, and Chris gives his bicep a thump. “Alright, alright,” he says rubbing the spot. “No more joking, me lud.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“So what happened to your parents?” Zach asks. “Did they come over too?”

“No,” says Chris remembering a night almost five hundred years ago. “I lost them before I came.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says Zach, his eyes full of concern.

“They died the night I was turned.”

“Oh, shit, Chris. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

 “It’s fine; it’s not a pleasant story, but maybe it’s one you should know. Could we maybe sit somewhere more comfortable?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” says Zach immediately leaving the table. He tells Chris to leave the dishes, and Chris follows him to the sofa. Noah wanders over, accepting a brief pat from both until Chris sighs.

“As you know the anniversary of my being turned is February sixteenth. For my birthday, the previous August, my father had given me a tremendous stallion. I was a little shit back then, since I’d been spoiled from the moment I was born. Heir to the family fortune, my father thought I could do no wrong. I ignored the animal for the most part, but that night I was adamant that I should ride him, and against my mother’s wishes I took him out. He hadn’t been fully broken in, and we rode wildly across the estate and into the woods that bordered the property. I was pulled from his back, but before I hit the ground I felt the worst pain in my neck.”

“Jesus, Chris,” says Zach seeing the tears in Chris’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know it at the time, but before I fully turned I was in a Vampire-like state, though still partly human; what we call a Rakattai, a blood-eater. I went home and found my family had also been bitten. The condition I was in meant I didn’t recognize them. When you become Rakattai, it’s up to the strongest to survive; feeding on the blood of other Rakattai completes the turning process. I slaughtered everyone in the house, all of them Rakattai just like me, but I was the strongest.” Tears slide down his cheeks, his voice throaty with emotion. “My father had sent me to sword and hand-to-hand combat lessons, and my skills meant I was able to take each and every person on the estate down. I supped on them as though at a feast and then went to the darkest cellar to sleep. I found all the bodies the following night, including the servants’ and…those of my family.” Chris looks at Zach and sees the shock on his face. “I am a monster, I know that, and I’m forever trying to make amends for what I did.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” says Zach, blinking and swiping a hand over his face. “I mean, it’s horrific to hear, but Jesus, dude, it must have been awful for you.”

“I shouldn’t have gone out. Ever since that night I’ve been telling myself if I’d been in the house I could have saved them.”

“Seriously, Chris, you think so? How many humans have beaten you as Vampire?”

Chris looks away wiping ineffectively at his eyes. “None,” he says quietly, thinking of all the lives he’s taken over the years. He’s never kept count but he’s certain it’s in the thousands.

“And if you had been in the house it would only have delayed what was already coming. He or she got you in the woods -”

“He,” says Chris giving Zach the correct gender.

“Then _he_ took out the rest of the household. What choice did you have?”

“I don’t know,” he says another tear escaping. Zach wipes it away with his thumb.

“You’re not the same man you were then, human or Vampire. You’re kind and considerate—hell, you’re putting yourself in danger just by protecting me!”

“I’ve killed so many.”

“Okay, stop. That’s enough. This isn’t going to help. I don’t know when, but you turned a corner somewhere in the past that stopped you from killing.”

Chris nods. He mourns his family every day, but he also mourns the lives of those he’s taken along the way too. There had been substantial killing with Patrick. In spite of the older Vampire teaching Chris how to feed without killing, Patrick also considered humans nothing more than a source of food. Chris struggled with that concept for a long time, but killed just as his lover did. After the Revolution however, it all changed.

“The Revolution stopped me,” he says. “I lost Patrick in the Revolution, and that’s when I stopped killing.”

“Seventeen seventy-five?”

“October, seventeen seventy-nine,” he says. “I’m sure there are plenty of significant dates around that time in the Were calendar, too.”

“Yeah, we don’t have anyone to give a first hand account, but we’re definitely told about them.”

“I’m glad I lived long enough to meet you,” says Chris, as his emotions overwhelm him.

“I’m glad, too. It’s Thanksgiving, after all. I didn’t expect to learn so much about you, but I’m very thankful I got to.” He leans forward and Chris accepts the kiss. He puts an arm about the Were’s neck until Zach pushes him back against the cushions. Their legs become entangled as Zach settles himself over Chris, hipbones rubbing and stomachs pressing together as they continue the kiss, Zach’s hands either side of Chris’s head as he leans against his elbows, his fingers delving into the Vampire’s hair.

Chris feels the well of despair drain as he responds to Zach’s kisses. His hands smooth up and down the Were’s back and he can feel the tight muscles move as Zach does. He doesn’t want this moment to end, just the two of them together without the need to worry about pasts or presents or even futures. Right now is enough, and as he continues the kiss he can feel the bond between them strengthen.

He hadn’t expected it to go further, but Zach stands, pulling him up from the sofa, and with fingers knotted he leads Chris to the large bed. Chris feels it in his groin, a swell of anticipation and worry and lust. It’s going to be more than hands and mouths this time, the final line, and he’s determined to cross it.

Zach’s hands are deliciously warm. Chris likes the feel of them smoothing over his naked body. He knows he feels cold to the touch, but maybe Zach isn’t all that concerned. Chris is lying on his stomach, his head on a pillow, his arms folded underneath it. Zach’s kneeling between his thighs and his hands, those delightful hands, are sliding up and down his back. Zach reaches Chris’s ass, gripping the cheeks and spreading him slightly. The Were lets out a breath, and then runs the tips of his fingers along Chris’s exposed crack.

Chris is squeezing the pillow, breathing hard into the stuffing of it, as Zach explores him. Zach’s fingers hover over his asshole, gently pressing and tracing tingly circles until he presses a little harder, breaching the ring. Chris fights the urge to push back against it, his eyes shut, as Zach’s finger wriggles. His cock is demanding attention, throbbing with the need to be touched.

He feels the cool drip of lube, as Zach applies it to him, again with the fingers that make Chris moan. Zach pulls at his hips, shifting him so he can line up. Chris feels the head of Zach’s cock push against his ring. Christ, it’s been so long since he’s felt the full width of a man inside him, and he moans again, eager to be filled.

Zach enters him with a gasp, cock half way in until his hands squeeze Chris’s ass. Chris can feel the Were’s hesitation, and for a brutal moment he wonders if Zach’s changed his mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice flat. He knows it probably feels strange since his internal temperature won’t be any different to his external one. Maybe it’s too much, and Zach’s finding the cold uncomfortable.

With a grunt Zach slides the rest of the way in, sighing when his hips push against Chris’s ass. “I’m trying to last longer than the twelve seconds we’ve been at it,” he says. “You feel incredible. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s amazing.”

“I worried you would find it awful,” he says bringing his arms under his chest so he’s off the pillow.

Zach pulls back making Chris hiss when the discomfort sets in; Zach’s big. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs. “Keep going.”

Zach sinks in with a groan. “No, you definitely feel unbelievable. This feels really good. God, fantastic even.”

“That’s reassuring,” says Chris again gasping when Zach carefully draws back. “Come on, dude, fuck me already.”

Zach leans over him, his hands in fists on either side of Chris’s shoulders. He dips his head, nuzzling into Chris’s neck, and begins to move. “Mm, yeah, this is very good,” he purrs.

Chris is desperate to not think of Patrick, instead concentrating on the feel of Zach inside him. He hasn’t quite forgotten the appeal of sex with men, but with the long-standing drought broken he’s finding he’s forgotten a lot more than he’d like to admit to. In spite of Lucia’s efforts, exciting as they were, she just missed the mark of fulfilling Chris’s ultimate fantasies. Zach kisses his shoulders before finding Chris’s ear with his tongue.

“Oh, God,” sighs Chris shifting his hips higher to give Zach a deeper stroke.

Zach straightens, kneeling behind him to take hold of Chris’s ass again. He increases his pace, rutting hard against the Vampire, as Chris clutches the pillow and groans loudly. His cock is leaking onto the pillow under his hips, and he only just gets his mind to focus when Zach’s trying to move him, and turn him over.

Face to face, Chris has little choice but to look directly at Zach, and those eyes that give him a shiver every time he finds himself in their crosshairs. Zach slides back in, curving over Chris and forcing the Vampire’s legs wide when he hooks Chris’s knees with his elbows.

“Zach,” says Chris when the Were begins a slower rhythm.

“Mm?”

“Is this wrong?” He feels a slight hesitation, but Zach doesn’t stop. Zach’s eyes don’t betray anything of what he might be feeling, but he traces his fingertips across Chris’s forehead before cupping his jaw and giving him a long, slow kiss. Their hips rocking, Chris kisses him back, accepting his tongue and running his hands through Zach’s hair.

“Ask me later, I’m about to come.” He takes up Chris’s cock, beginning a swift jerk, and comes just before Chris does.

Chris still feels unsure that Zach is content to be so close to one who feels so cold, but the Were encases Chris in his arms, pulling him close so he can slide a leg between Chris’s.

“Were you referring to us as Vampire and Werewolf?”

“Yeah, will they freak out?”

“For now, our differences aside, I think we fit like the Yin and Yang, opposites that have found a connection,” says Zach.

“Do you think the others think like that? The other Domini and Imus?”

“I don’t know, but they seem to care about each other, even though it’s not exactly equitable.”

Chris nods against Zach’s arm and it isn’t long before the Were is reaching for him again. In moments they’re panting and moaning until they both eventually come and flop like boneless jellies on the sheets.

He leaves Zach sleeping when he slips out of the apartment, the first rays of dawn urging him home as he zips through the city. Alone in his box, Chris lets his thoughts tumble through his mind and most of them have him reconsidering his entire future. He knows he could never truly become Imus, it goes against everything he ever fought for. But what if they could just be together?

What would it mean if they stayed together after he turned Rakdanava?

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach learns more about his species history and gains further insight into the role of an Imus. Chris shares his past and present, and wonders about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Convincing into Voyeurism, Voyeurism

It’s been seventeen hours and fifty-two minutes since Chris had sex with Zach. The memory hasn’t left him alone in all that time and even though several of those hours were spent sleeping, he wouldn’t have be surprised, if he had the ability to dream, if he’d dreamt about it.

So it comes as a bit of a disappointment when he arrives at Zach’s place ready for some serious bed action, that the Were is finishing up an agitated call before tossing his phone onto the coffee table. It seems as though Zach was more focused on the call rather than acknowledging that he’d just let the Vampire into the apartment.

“Dammit!” he barks, but when he truly sees Chris his scowling face softens. “Hey.”

“Problem?” asks Chris, hoping they don’t have to drive in to WOLPh.

“That was Jacob,” says Zach, tensing up again. “I’ve been trying to reach Leonard. I’ve left message after message, with no response. Now I find out from Jacob he’s not even in the fucking country!”

“Wait, what? Where is he?”

“He and Peter are in China on business. They’re not due back until just before Christmas.”

“Oh,” says Chris. He’s aware Zach has been trying to speak to Leonard ever since they suspected Peter of being the mastermind behind the Vampire attacks. “What are you gonna do?”

Zach sighs, shrugs by flopping his arms by his sides. “Wait until he gets back I guess. I told Jacob it was urgent. I just hope he lets Leonard know as soon as he sees him.”

Chris steps up to him. “I know it’s important that you speak to him, but remember you’re safe now.”

“I know, but I can’t stop thinking how that asshole is trying to manipulate everything! He tried to have me killed for fuck’s sake!”

“I will not let anything happen,” says Chris.

“For now. What happens when you have to go?”

“I thought you were getting a replacement.” Zach looks away, then moves away to the kitchen, putting space between them. “Zach? You were getting a replacement,” he says again, this time with more force.

“Yeah, a replacement,” Zach says but even though the Were’s back is turned Chris senses something’s wrong. Chris follows him, but keeps a little distance between them.

“I don’t agree with it, but I need to know you’ll be safe, especially if the threat of Peter isn’t resolved, and soon.”

Zach just nods and begins fixing himself a cup of coffee. The silence stretches and though Chris wants to make sure Zach will follow through with a new Imus, he really doesn’t want to talk about the complexity of it all. It occurs to him then that maybe Zach is having just as hard a time accepting it too. Chris has made it pretty clear how he feels, should it really be surprising the Were is having trouble with the concept of having to choose someone for a life of subjugation?

He closes the gap between them and places a gentle hand on Zach’s arm, ceasing his fiddling with the dish cloth, his coffee un-poured and forgotten. “Hey,” says Chris and pulls him into his arms. Zach leans into him and he feels the Were’s arms go around him. “It’ll be okay.”

“How?” asks Zach pressing his mouth and nose against Chris’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, but since I’m not going just yet, there’s time enough to sort it out.” He has no idea how that’s going to happen, but for now he just wants to see a smile on Zach’s face again.

“Okay.”

Chris leads him back to the lounge area and they sit on the couch, trying to let the moment of upset pass.

“Tell me more about Patrick,” says Zach, cutting through the silence and making Chris wonder about the Were’s thought processes. He has no idea how Zach’s mind went from sweating over selecting an Imus to Chris’s former lover, but there it is.  The last time he spoke of Patrick to Zach, things were definitely in the zone of naked bodies and bed. But when he thinks of Patrick in that light, and how he’d used his memory, his moment of eager anticipation dissolves into shame.

“Patrick?” he repeats, his heart immediately setting pace as the guilt of what he’s done with Zach surges through him. Although it’s been a couple of centuries, he still wonders if the Vampire would mind.

“Yeah, says Zach, giving him a look. He leans forward and touches the very tip of his index finger to Chris’s chest, right over his heart. “Patrick,” he says.

Zach can hear the increased tempo of his heartbeat. Damn Weres and their goddamn Vulcan hearing! “What about him?”

“I didn’t want to have to say, but it seems like every time we get close, something in you triggers and sends your heart racing?”

“Maybe it’s the fact that we’re getting hot and heavy. Doesn’t your heart speed up?”

“Not the way yours does. It’s like you’re guilty of doing something without his approval. I want to know more about the man that has such an effect on you even though he’s been dead—how long?”

“Two hundred and thirty-four years,” Chris replies quietly, ashamed that Zach has been able to pinpoint the truth. He’s certainly not thinking about the Imus selection anymore.

“A while, then,” says Zach.

“Yeah,” says Chris, no longer looking at him. He won’t mention his visit to Savannah each year, where he spends the night sitting quietly at the spot where Patrick died. Since the war the area has become a memorial and the landscape has changed dramatically. But Chris could find the spot blindfold, and so he sits on the manicured lawn remembering their time together and inevitably replaying the scene of Patrick’s death in his mind.

“I will never ask you to forget him, because he means far too much to you, but…I think we need to discuss it, don’t you?”

Chris looks away. “You have no idea what we went through,” he says softly.

“And I’ll never know unless you tell me,” says Zach. “If you want to talk, I’m here, but I can also wait.”

Zach’s being aggravatingly calm, as Chris fights the lump in his throat and the deep well of sorrow in his chest. It’s not for Patrick; it’s for Zach. He’s ashamed he’s been so obvious, that Zach thinks he’s still stuck in a long dead relationship.

“I’m scared, Zach, scared of losing you. Whatever you might think, I do care about you. But everyone I’ve ever cared about has died because of me.”

Zach pulls Chris to him, snuggling the Vampire in his arms. “I know you’ve been around a long time, but you can’t believe that sort of thing is true,” he says. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Patrick or your family; you’re not being fair to yourself.”

Chris stares at the ceiling. “I let them die.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes. I could have prevented it and I didn’t.”

“Chris, dude,” says Zach and Chris can hear the injustice. “I can’t believe you think—”

“During the American Revolution,” says Chris, interrupting Zach’s thought. “A Vampire revolutionary, Dominic Cane, decided to stand up against the Weres who were helping the British. Though we couldn’t enlist, many Vampires lent their strength to the Americans during the night to try and end the reign of the Crown and its loyalist Werewolves.”

“Dominic Cane,” says Zach, “I remember learning something about him, but I don’t think he was portrayed as a revolutionary.”

“It was seventeen seventy-nine and Patrick caught wind of Cane’s ideals. He agreed that with the loss of the Weres the British would have to abandon their cause. The Weres fought alongside the British until it was clear the patriots were winning. That’s when they focused their attention on ridding the land of all Vampires instead of on the war.”

“Yes, that’s right,” says Zach quietly. “For the good of the country it was seen as a far nobler cause to eradicate Vampire so the humans would prosper.” Chris can feel him tense.

“Patrick and I were in Savannah when the French Admiral d’Estaing joined Benjamin Lincoln and planned to launch an attack against General Provost.

“The British had asked that the women and children in the town be allowed to leave, but Lincoln and d’Estaing thought it was a move to stall the rebels, enabling them to prepare for battle. There were five days and nights of continuous shelling from our side. I was amazed the town still stood when they finally finished. I remember Patrick grabbing my arm and dragging me away… I could see the bodies, children and their mothers blown to smithereens.”

“Jesus, Chris, are you talking about the Siege of Savannah?” asks Zach. Chris just nods, Zach’s stroking his hair and shoulder, down his neck and back again. It’s sending delightful shivers along Chris’s spine and his upper arms ripple with goose bumps. It’s helping him relax since the moment of Patrick’s death is something he hasn’t spoken of to anyone. Now he’s started, he wants Zach to know and understand. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

“It was different back then, we didn’t have the technology we have today. War always means death no matter what stage in time, and though the weapons have become more advanced, the strategies are similar. Kill or be killed. I understood the cause and knew sacrifice was necessary, but not to that extent. Children don’t belong in war.”

“What happened to Patrick?” asks Zach. Chris can hear the hesitation, but he figures the Were wants to understand why he feels the way he does.

“The plan was to attack in the early hours on the morning of October ninth. As Vampires, we listened to Dominic’s speeches of winning at all cost, especially when the cost was our lives. Being so close to dawn a lot of us were concerned, but Patrick saw it as a challenge. Get in and take the town so we could sleep while the enemy gathered their dead.

“My uniform wasn’t really mine. As I said, Vampires weren’t permitted to enlist, but we scrounged bits and pieces to cobble together the look of an American soldier. Patrick and I each had a musket, but only a handful of shot between us. I tried to talk Patrick out of going but he refused to listen, saying this was it, the end of Were rule over Vampires. Once we took Savannah, the uprising would continue across the continent.”

“He was passionate for his cause,” says Zach quietly.

“Yes, he was,” says Chris turning slightly so he can look Zach in the eye. But the Were looks back with compassion and sympathy.

“He fought for what he believed in. I’m sorry he left you behind.”

“We were separated,” says Chris his voice trembling. As something that occurred over two hundred years ago he still can’t fathom why it makes him feel so useless. He rests his head on Zach’s chest and the Were resumes his tantalizing stroking. “The night before the battle, he took me into the woods. There were soldiers everywhere, both French and American. He took me behind a large tree and we… we did what a lot of the soldiers did when they knew death was coming. He whispered things in my ear, telling me to stay close and keep him in sight.

“I don’t remember how it happened, but when the call came to get ready I lost him in the thick fog that had settled over our camps. I called and called, but couldn’t find him. We were told to get into formation and I was getting worried; dawn was fast approaching.”

“You don‘t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to,” Zach whispers into his hair. But he has to know; Chris has to get this out.

“The attack was meant to begin at about four in the morning, but there were delays and we didn’t set out until closer to five-thirty. There was a heavy fog when we charged along the south-western flank, an area deemed vulnerable by the officers. But the British were prepared. They opened fire, and cut us down as though we were mere wheat in a field.

“The cries and screams of the wounded followed, their agony apparent, but there was little we could do. One devastating cry pierced through me, and though I tried to deny it, I just knew. Dodging bullets and grapeshot I followed the sound until I saw him impaled, as many other soldiers were, on one of the great sharpened tree branches used as part of the British fortifications surrounding their redoubt. I didn’t know how he got there; the tree ran straight through his middle, missing his heart and a quick death entirely. He called for me, screaming my name in his piteously broken voice.

“But there was another problem. Though the fog gave some cover, the sun had risen. Those of us who were Vampire had no choice but to fall back, or die of exposure to the sun. Many of us did die. I ran for the trees, but once in the shade I turned back. He’d slid further down the branch, his blood dripping from its sharpened tip. The sun burst through the fog and Patrick, with a final scream, burnt to ash.”

“Chris, I’m so sorry,” says Zach, kissing the top of the Vampire’s head as his arms squeeze him.

“He was screaming my name when he died, screaming for help that was never going to come. I would have died on the field, burnt by the sun had I tried.”

“There was nothing you could do,” says Zach, his hand again returning to the gentle stroking. Chris hadn’t realized he’d been crying until he looks to Zach and the Were brushes the tears from under his eyes. He kisses him tenderly at first, pressing his lips more firmly when he feels Chris respond.

“Was I wrong to leave him?”

“No, Chris. You both would have died if you’d gone after him. What good would you be then? The battle of Savannah was lost before it began because of poor leadership decisions. For Weres it was a celebrated victory, but soon after it was clear we’d chosen the wrong side. Children are told it was a diplomatic decision, for the good of all humans. The part about losing the war and fighting for the British has been very much edited out of our history.”

“Far greater glory in attempting to wipe out a species?”

“I’ve never been more ashamed of being a Werewolf.”

“Zach,” says Chris choking a little and feels Zach’s shirt is damp with his tears. “I didn’t want to make this a burden for you, I’m glad I told you. You shouldn’t feel ashamed.”

“My worries seem so trivial in light of what you’ve been through. I lost my boyfriend because we were both selfish, and unable to see the other person’s viewpoint. Yours was taken from you in a way no one can possibly imagine. I have little doubt you would still be together had he survived.”

Chris looks at him worriedly. “Then I wouldn’t have met you.”

Zach smiles. “I don’t think speculating on what might have been will help. I hope talking to me about it has.”

Chris sniffs, feeling like a child, but it makes him feel safe, which is something he hasn’t felt in a very long time. He snuggles against Zach, enjoying his warm closeness. “It has,” he says. They lie there for a while, Zach stroking Chris’s back as Chris lies on his chest. “Tell me about Matt.”

Zach sighs and the hand that’s stroking hesitates before resuming. “I want to say I miss him, that maybe if I’d given him more time he would have come around to us giving the long distance thing a go. I think the relationship needs to be in a very strong place for that to work. You have to cope without your partner for days or months on end, but still have whatever it was that holds you together.”

“A special bond,” says Chris again feeling the swell of pleasure when he thinks about the connection he’s made with Zach.

“Yeah, we certainly didn’t have that. The more I think about it, the better off I know I am, but there were good times, happy times. He made me laugh, and was a great cook. He has an amazing sense of style, in spite of being terribly messy. He had appalling taste in music, and he had this, I don’t know, I suppose you could call it a streak. He liked control.”

“Bit bossy was he?”

“You could say that, even in the bedroom he came across as being in complete control. It was as though he was ordering me to do it, rather than me wanting to show him what he meant to me.”

“Patrick was bossy, but the choices he made were to benefit us both.”

“Have the choices we’ve been making benefited us?” asks Zach.

Chris lifts his head from Zach’s chest to kiss him, and doesn’t answer until Zach eventually pulls away, eyebrows raised.

“I think the choices we’ve made benefit us, though they go against the conventions of society.”

“The rest of the world be damned, as long as we have each other, huh?” says Zach

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Zach resumes the kiss, licking into Chris’s mouth as the Vampire shifts, slipping between Zach’s legs and moving closer, covering the Were with his body.

“Mm,” Zach murmurs, “this is very nice.” His hands glide over Chris’s back until they reach his ass and give it a firm squeeze. He pushes one hand into the waistband of Chris’s jeans, brushing the top of his crack.

Chris huffs into Zach’s mouth, lifting himself onto his elbows where he begins to caress Zach’s chest and nipples. He skims over Zach’s t-shirt, tugging it from his pants so he can slip inside. Zach hisses, and Chris smiles, when his cool fingertips tease Zach’s naked flesh.

The Were immediately sets to Chris’s button and fly, yanking down the zipper enabling him to cup Chris’s hardening cock. He sighs against Zach’s mouth, pushing against his hand as the Were strokes.

“Get them off,” says Zach and Chris, though reluctant to move, kneels up, pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans and underwear. Zach does the same, but when they come back together, Chris is straddling Zach, dicks pressed together as they continue their kiss. Chris undulates his hips gently. Zach bites his lip and his hands clutch at Chris’s ass before bucking up against those maddening hips. “Lube?”

Chris has never been more thankful of his Vampire speed, and before Zach has time to take a second breath he’s back on top of him, the bottle of lube in his hand. “As ordered, sir.”

Zach laughs, squeezing lube onto his fingers. “That is a useful skill to have.”

“Yes,” says Chris, gasping as Zach spreads the lube over him, pushing in a finger and forcing the Vampire to clench. “Mm,” he sighs and leans forward a little, his hands pressing into the Were’s chest. On the next stroke Zach adds a second finger and Chris moans, flexing his hips in time to Zach’s fingering. He’s effectively frotting against Zach’s cock, rubbing firmly against his hard cock with his own straining length. Zach twists his fingers, twirling them inside until he hits Chris’s prostate. “Oh God!” the Vampire gasps, clinging to Zach’s chest and leaving red marks where his fingers are digging in.

 Zach pulls him closer, wanting a kiss, but Chris can’t stop moaning and feels the Were smother his lips with open mouth kisses, sucking and tugging on flesh.

“I like you like this,” says Zach. “Completely at my mercy.” He lets out a low rumbling growl and Chris shivers, knowing Zach will feel it too.

“Oh God, Zach, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” says Zach, his voice barely a whisper, but the tremor in his throat pushes out the words and Chris cries out, his dick shooting over Zach’s stomach without having been truly touched.

Zach continues to work his ass, but Chris straightens, shifts his knees in tight against Zach’s hips and moves until he can reach for Zach’s cock from behind. Clutching the sofa back he lifts his ass to help guide Zach inside. He bites his lip when the Were breaches, and clamps his eyes shut in an effort to ease the discomfort while his body adjusts to Zach’s width.

Zach grunts, “You okay?” he asks once Chris is seated.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies, opening his eyes and taking a few slow breaths. “Are you okay?” He wonders if he’ll ever stop worrying about his temperature.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” asks Zach, his eyes closed. He folds his hands behind his head, indicating it’s up to Chris to make this happen. “You feel amazing.”

Chris keeps hold of the sofa back, places one hand on Zach’s chest and begins to move. Zach covers his hand with his own, keeping it in place as their bodies rock on the sofa.

“I worry I might be too cold for you,” he says.

“Then stop worrying,” says Zach and he looks at Chris. The gaze is intense, enough for Chris’s breath to falter.

“Okay,” he gasps.

“If I didn’t enjoy this I wouldn’t be doing it.” He begins stroking the back of Chris’s hand, still pressed to his chest. “Am I too warm for you?”

“No,” Chris grunts, angling himself a little which causes the head of Zach’s cock to brush against his prostate. “God, no.”

“Then quit worrying.” He bucks up into him sharply, and Chris gasps loudly as a spark inside bursts through him. “You like that?”

“Mm,” says Chris, his words lost in the moment.

Zach sits up, twists them so his back is to the sofa, his feet on the edge of the coffee table, and pulls Chris closer, forcing the Vampire’s legs to spread wider.

“Oh shit, Zach,” Chris breathes as Zach’s access deepens. The spark fires over and over, flaring through him in a constant beating of pleasure. The Were bites at his nipples, plants open mouthed kisses across his chest, until he grabs the back of Chris’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. Tongues entwined, Chris is having trouble keeping still as his body trembles. His cock is leaking profusely over his stomach, where it bounces to the force of their fucking. He whimpers into Zach’s mouth, and comes for a second time, the cool sticky release dousing him this time, as Zach continues to thrust into him. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs.

“Kiss me,” Zach demands, “I want to kiss you when I come.”

Chris curls forward as best he can and wraps his arms around Zach’s neck, lips wide as he slides his tongue into the Were’s mouth. He sucks on Zach’s tongue, licks over his teeth and clings to him firmly until the Were is grunting, his body throbbing as he shoots into him. Chris doesn’t let go and leans his head on Zach’s shoulder as he tries to slow his heavy breathing. He can feel Zach panting against his ear his hands running soft, slow lines over his back.

“Can we just stay here like this?” Chris asks.

“Sure,” says Zach. “But I would think you’d like a shower.” He gives Chris’s ass a squeeze as he says it.

“Oh,” says Chris gingerly peeling himself away. “A shower would be nice.”

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Considering the number of times he’s come, Zach’s amazed he’s still awake when the room begins to lighten. Before the Vampire has a chance to leave, Zach hooks a finger under Chris’s collar and tugs him closer. The kiss threatens to see Chris running the gauntlet with the sun, but Zach manages to let his mouth go long enough to ask a question that’s been bubbling in the back of his mind.

“I know we already talked about it, but I’m still worried. Do you need to go to the bar to feed tonight?”

“I don’t want to cause trouble Zach, I’m okay to let it go,” says Chris.

“But what about your clients?” Zach doesn’t want to be the reason behind any resentment between them.

“Lucia will deal with them once I’ve let her know. They’ll be disappointed, but I think they’ll understand.”

“You don’t want to say good bye?” Chris looks at him with uncertainty. “What if you went one more time to let them know yourself?”

“Oh, well, I guess,” says Chris looking confused. “You _want_ me to go and feed?”

“Yeah, if you need to, but,” he pauses, worries his bottom lip with his teeth. It’s something he’s wondered about, but never thought  the opportunity would present itself. “Would you mind if I came with you?”

“To Bar Sinister?” says Chris sounding startled.

“Yeah, I’d like to,” he slides the finger along Chris’s collar, wanting another kiss, but he has to let Chris go. “I’d like to see what you do, if that’s okay with you. Are people allowed to watch?”

Those eyes widen and Zach bites his lip to stop himself from kissing him again. “You wanna watch me feed? I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to see that kind of thing after, you know.”

“I have it on good authority that it can be quite pleasurable. I’m not asking to be bitten, I’m asking to watch. How do you make them feel good and not completely helpless?”

“Atmosphere helps, and I guess because I’m not suddenly grabbing them for a quick snack.”

A memory of bright teeth covered in blood clouds Zach’s mind and he takes a sudden step back. “Yeah, true. You know what, you’re right. Forget it.”

“Hey,” says Chris drawing him closer. “I know it’s been nasty for you, but it might help to shove the rest of the horror away. It’ll show you how good it can feel.”

Zach lets himself be taken into the Vampire’s arms. Maybe it will be okay with Chris there. He’d wanted to see that it could be something pleasurable and not the horrific terror he’d experienced.

“Okay, if you’re comfortable with me being there.”

Chris licks his lips and Zach only just manages to swallow the groan that threatens to escape him. “I think it will be fine. Yeah, why not? A few of my regulars enjoy an audience. I’ll ask if it’s okay with them first.”

“Of course.”

Zach slept most of the day and waited patiently for Chris to show after a shower and shave. Chris had mentioned the Bar opened at ten, but when he arrives there are still a few hours to wait.

“Any ideas on how we can pass the time?” Chris asks before grabbing the back of Zach’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

“A few,” says Zach grabbing fistfuls of Chris’s shirt and pulling it from his jeans. Chris is dressed in black and has make up on; just a hint of black eyeliner. But Zach thinks it looks amazingly hot.

“Tell me,” says Chris before pulling gently at Zach’s lower lip with his teeth.

Rather than explaining outright, Zach shows him instead. When his dick is buried deep as physically possible, Zach’s pretty sure Chris has a good enough idea of what they can do whenever they have the time. He’d probably even say as much if he weren’t moaning so loudly.

It’s Chris that drives them to the bar and they arrive just as the door opens and the music blasts out into the street. Zach’s never seen so many people dressed up as though it’s Halloween. “Wow, is it always like this?” he asks when they join the end of the line.

“Yeah, it’s one of the stipulations; must come as ghoul.”

“That explains why I’m dressed in black and wearing eyeliner.”

“Which suits you, by the way. I’m wondering if you’ll let me put it on you even if we’re not going out.”

Zach smiles. “Odd as it sounds, I just might.” Chris takes his hand, lacing fingers so their palms are pressed together. Zach follows him to the large door, and Chris leans in to his ear.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice trying to get above the blaring music.

“Let’s do it,” says Zach. He doesn’t know why he has a stomach full of butterflies, perhaps it’s to do with entering the world of Chris, and finding out more about the man who’s taken over his heart.

The nightclub’s décor is predominantly black. Even the muted lighting is ensconced in black housing. Feathers and lace frame dark renaissance art, and black and red paint cover the walls. The dance floor is throbbing with people; it reminds Zach of Cerberus, if Cerberus were located in Hell. All manner of garish creatures are gyrating to the music, and everyone seems to be wearing black. Zach feels the beat, and really wants to dance, but he lets Chris drag him past the dancers to the bar on the other side of the floor.

“Lucia,” Chris calls and a tall, elegant fiend comes over.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” she says then sees Zach. “Who’s your friend?” she asks.

“This is Zach,” says Chris, and Zach is pretty sure he’s ever seen such a beaming smile on the Vampire’s face before. “He’s my, that is, we’re—” he takes a breath. “It’s my last night Lu, I won’t be able to come back, to um…”

Zach understands Chris’s inability to voice what it is they have. What _do_ they have? Are they dating now that they’re fucking? Can Vampire and Werewolf seriously expect to go around as boyfriends? 

“Serious?” she says, straightening as her eyebrows come together. “You’re leaving me?”

Chris lifts Zach’s hand and presses it to his mouth. “I’m afraid so,” he says, but he’s looking at Zach.

“I see, so this asshole has managed to steal my best kink,” she says, but she’s smiling broadly. “Lucia,” she says sticking out her hand across the bar. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” says Zach, and takes her hand firmly.

“So you’re on for tonight?” she says to Chris.

“Yeah, um, Zach and I will be upstairs.”

“Sure thing, baby. Be sure to say goodbye before you leave here, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll see you then.”

Chris grabs Zach and hauls him away, “Let’s go upstairs,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll be too freaked out.”

Zach has witnessed BDSM via the internet, so he’s not shocked, but seeing it first hand rather than through the lens of a camera makes him even more curious about the practice. He sees a man crawling on all fours, guided by a leash and a stern riding crop, while his ‘owner’ tells him what a good dog he’s being. There’s a woman encased in black PVC except for two long black pigtails who’s whipping three young men simultaneously, and another young woman teasing her lover by tickling her all over with a feather.

“This way,” says Chris, pushing open a slightly ajar door that has a pair of dripping fangs painted on it. The room is predominantly red, in fact the only things that aren’t are a series of old silver canisters on the coffee table.

“Wow,” says Zach. “It’s…red.”

Chris chuckles and pulls him close, kissing him firmly. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” says Zach, a little breathless from the kiss. “Just fascinated, I suppose.”

Chris palms the Were’s crotch, kissing him again before he gently guides him backwards. Zach feels something behind his knees. “Sit,” says Chris. Zach sinks into the armchair, nestling back into the cushion so his legs are parted and he has a clear view of the chaise lounge in front of him. “I’ll be back in a sec, okay?”

“Sure.”

Once Chris steps out, Zach takes in the rest of the room. He doesn’t find it eerie at all. In fact the red is almost cozy, like a womb.  His fingers toy with his lips as the anticipation mounts. He’s about to watch his lover bite into people. The thought sounds sick in his head, but the situation itself seems perfectly natural.

The door opens and a middle aged woman steps into the room in front of Chris.

“Hi,” she says, smiling at Zach.

“Hey,” he shifts in the chair to loosen the seam of his jeans that already seems a little tight. He’s not sure if the stirring in his balls is because of the sex they’d had in the apartment, or if his brain is truly into this voyeurism thing.

“This is Kimberley,” says Chris. “She’s okay with you watching.”

“Thanks,” says Zach.

“Oh, no need honey, I like being watched, it’s kinda my thing.”

“And being bitten?” he asks, unsure if he’s crossing a line, but Kimberley turns to Chris and smoothes a hand down his arm.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, right?”

“Kimberley likes the pain of a bite and the mark it leaves,” says Chris. And Zach can see he’s watching him carefully. Does Chris think he’ll make a run for it; shove himself through the locked door the instant he sees fang? As though he’s heard Zach’s thoughts Chris opens his mouth and his fangs distend. Both Kimberley and Zach gasp at the same time, but where hers is desirous, Zach’s is a sharp intake of breath.

“Seated?” asks Chris. Kimberley nods and sits at an angle on the lounge. Chris positions himself behind her and with a tender hand sweeps her hair from her shoulder to expose her neck.

“Oh, God,” whispers Zach, surprised his cock is reacting, pressing against that seam already.

Chris licks along her neck and she whimpers when his lips touch her skin. “Bite me, oh God, please bite me.”

Zach hears the bite when Chris’s fangs penetrate Kimberley’s skin. She cries out in pain, but there’s no fear in her scream. She reaches back, clinging to Chris’s head as he feeds from her; slowly and almost sweetly if that were at all possible.

Chris pulls up with a gasp, his lips covered in blood. He licks them immediately before licking at the twin rivulets of blood that threaten to stain Kimberley’s neckline. “How do you feel sweetheart? Can I get you anything?” Chris asks her.

“I’m fine, thank you. That was beautiful, baby,” she says turning on the lounge to face him better. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Me too,” he says with a smile. “Let me tend to that.” He indicates her wound.

“Just a band aid, I want to keep you with me.”

“No problem.”

Like a practiced physician, Chris takes care of her as though she’s his one and only patient. By the time she’s ready to leave Zach’s jeans are getting seriously uncomfortable.

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” she says, giving Zach a wink before Chris sees her out.

 ”You okay?” Chris asks when he closes the door.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward to hide his condition.

“Have you had enough? You can go if you like.”

“No, no,” says Zach. “I’m good.”

 Chris’s next one is a couple. They want to be bitten while their partner goes down on them. Sabrina’s eager to be watched by Zach, but Tim isn’t so sure.

“I can leave if you prefer,” says Zach.

“You can watch me first,” she says. “Tim will loosen up once we get started.”

Zach’s mouth goes a little dry when Sabrina begins to moan. Gay man as he is, the display in front of him is incredibly erotic. Tim’s kneeling on the floor, his head between her splayed legs as she leans back against Chris. The Vampire is gently stroking her hair and neck, but his eyes are focused on Zach. Aware he’s being watched, Zach feels his blood heat and his cock forces itself against the zipper. Those fucking eyes will have him ruin his favorite jeans. He palms himself lightly, more to ease himself than make it any more prominent.

Sabrina’s cries get louder and she’s breathing hard, her hands buried in Tim’s long hair pressing him closer. Zach’s fascinated that Chris knows the moment when she comes because he bites into her neck to the sound of her moaning cries. He can see the blood more clearly this time, beading around Chris’s lips before it trickles down towards her clavicle. He swallows hard; Chris’s eyes haven’t lost their focus on him. Even as he drinks the Vampire is watching him. That amazing scarlet gaze has him pinned to the chair and his dick is so hard it’s almost painful.

Chris heals Sabrina before he moves on to Tim. He doesn’t need convincing; his girlfriend standing naked and pulling on him gently is enough argument for Tim to allow Zach to keep watching.  Chris removes his shirt, attentive to his clients as he gives surreptitious glances towards Zach.

The Were is openly rubbing himself through his jeans, watching as Tim writhes under Sabrina’s mouth, his neck taut and waiting for Chris’s fangs. It only takes a few minutes and he’s coming, bucking a little on the lounge until Chris’s bite stills him.

It’s Zach that groans this time when he sees the blood welling at the wound. He wants to get his dick out and jack himself while Chris watches, his mouth still on Tim’s neck. He’s relieved when the couple goes, fully healed and happy and hand-in-hand. Chris, still shirtless, scrubs a hand through his hair when he closes the door and locks it again, looking down at Zach.

“How’re you going?” he asks.

“I’m too fucking hard to answer, dude,” says Zach.

“Maybe you’d better fuck me then.”

“Oh, don’t you even,” says Zach managing to haul himself out of the chair. “I want you with your fangs out.”

Chris is already pulling off his jeans and Zach is pleased to see the Vampire is just as hard as he feels. “Yeah? You sure?”

“Very, I wanna fuck you while your fangs are out, I wanna see them while I take your ass!”

“Eloquent,” says Chris and pulls Zach to him by grabbing at his shirt. “You need to join me first.”

“Show them to me,” Zach whispers. The eyes, those fucking red eyes don’t look away, but Chris smiles and there they are, two perfectly curved incisors, sharp as needles. Zach runs a hand up Chris’s chest before his fingers curl about the Vampire’s neck. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You don’t need to be, Zach,” says Chris. “Now fuck me.”

Zach pulls off his shirt and is very relieved to finally free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Chris is already lying on the lounge with a bottle of lube, his tongue sliding over his fangs in slow sweeps.

“Get your legs up,” Zach demands. Chris complies, pulling back on his knees while the Were grabs at his cock and gives it a firm tug. “Keep the teeth where I can see them.”

Chris obliges, keeping them perched on his lower lip while Zach administers the lube, sliding two fingers in as soon as they’re coated.

“Mm, fuck,” Chris sighs.

Zach lines up, apprehensive, but eager. Those fangs are still in his eye line, but he knows he’s safe. When he sinks in he feels the cool depths of Chris’s body envelop him. Chris’s mouth opens in a silent groan, his teeth protruding like those of a deadly serpent. Zach takes hold of Chris’s ankles, holding them high and wide as he begins to thrust. He doesn’t think he should feel so dominant, but having Chris beneath him, fucking into him, is only strengthening the feelings he has towards him. Chris is grasping for his hips, curling his pelvis up with every stroke. Zach grips his cock, jerking it to the same rhythm.

“Oh God, Zach, Zach,” Chris groans.

Zach lets go of his legs and leans over him, their faces barely an inch apart. He kisses him and feels the sharp scrape of Chris’s fangs against his mouth.  He doesn’t know he’d whimpered until Chris retracts them.

“Wait,” says Zach. “Let me kiss you with them.”

“No,” says Chris, his eyes looking worried. “You can’t.”

Zach is too close to coming to argue, and with his hand around the Vampire’s dick it isn’t long before Chris is coming too.

Sated, they lie together on the lounge gazing up at the ceiling. “We can go whenever you want to. I’ll be okay,” says Chris.

“You sure you’ve had enough?”

“Yeah, besides you’ll be going into WOLPh and I can always eat there.”

“It’s not the same though, is it? I mean, WOLPh aren’t serving up people.”

“No, it’s not as good, but it does the job.”

“Thank you,” says Zach, kissing Chris’s temple. “For letting me watch, for saying goodbye.”

“You’re welcome.”

They get dressed and Chris is about to go to the door when there’s a loud knock. He shrugs at Zach and opens it an inch before it’s slammed back and a small woman walks in looking extremely unhappy.

“What the fuck, Chris? You’re leaving? Just come to suck us all dry before you disappear into the night?”

“I, um,” says Chris looking helplessly at Zach. She follows his gaze and immediately relaxes her stance.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were busy. Why’d you open the door?”

“Freda, this is Zach,” says Chris. “He’s the reason I’m quitting.”

“He…what?” she says, looking mystified, then it seems to click. “Ohh! I see. Um, okay then, he hadn’t told us,” she says to Zach. “Hot as,” she says to Chris behind her hand. “So this is it then?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

“Do we get a final goodbye bite?” she asks, looking between Chris and Zach.

“If that’s what you’d like.”

“Can he watch?” She looks to Zach.

“Sure,” says Zach. He could do with a rest, and who knows, maybe after Chris has had another feed they could consider round two.

Freda’s bite is quick and clean, having requested the pain as a reminder of what she was losing in Chris. Chris has only just finished dressing the bite when another knock bangs noisily against the door.

“It’s fine, honey, thank you,” she says kissing Chris’s cheek. “I’ll miss you and wish you all the best, the both of you.”

She opens the door and in crashes Anton, his face red and sweating. “You’re joking, right? You can’t do this.”

“Anton, honey, you need to calm down,” says Freda.

“Calm down? Do you know what he’s doing?” he says pointing at Chris. His hair is messy and his clothes cling to him like a sock. The slogan on his shirt says ‘Fang Slut’.

“He’s entitled to a life,” says Freda and gives Zach an apologetic smile.

Anton seems to realize he’s making a scene and that’s when his eyes fall on Zach, seated in the armchair. Then he looks to Chris. Zach can see the kid is trying to process what’s going on. He can’t deny the room smells heavily of sex, but before Chris and Zach’s bout on the lounge there’d been the previous couple.

“Who’s that?” he asks Chris.

“Zach,” says Chris calmly.

“Is he—are you—did he?” says Anton, but he seems to have too many questions, all of them demanding to be let out at once.

“It’s true, Anton. I’m finishing up here at the bar, I—”

“What? No!” says Anton. “You can’t leave; no one else can do what you do.”

“There are others. I’m sure Lucia will find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else!” Zach can hear the pain in the kid’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Anton, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right for me to continue here.”

“Bullshit,” says Anton and glares at Zach. He doesn’t need to speak, Zach can hear the words loud and clear, ‘ _You_ did this!’ Even so he points at Zach. “Tell _him_ you need this. You have to feed, don’t you? How else are you going to survive?”

“He has the ability to see to my needs.”

“Fuck that,” Anton spits. “ _I’m_ all you need, Chris. You can feed from me whenever you want.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Zach is impressed at how calm Chris is. Both he and Freda exchange worried glances, but Chris seems to only be seeing Anton in the room.

“I hoped you would come around to changing me,” says Anton sounding defeated.

“No, I wouldn’t. You deserve to live your life, not have it taken.”

“You don’t take life, you give it. You’ll live forever, you’re beautiful and smart and funny, and everything I want.”

 “I’m hunted and reviled, the scourge of society. Most humans fear us, those that know we actually exist.”

“I’d give anything to have what you have, Chris, even my life.”

Chris puts his hand on Anton’s shoulder, and the kid seems to relax a little. “Keep your life, man. It’s more precious that you know.”

“How can I convince you?”

“You can’t. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, let alone a gentle soul like you. I’d give anything to be the human I once was.”

“Would you bite me one more time, then?”

Chris looks to Zach and he knows Chris is waiting for his permission. He’s not happy, but he trusts that all Chris will do it bite the kid. He nods and moves to stand.

“No, he stays,” says Anton. “He needs to understand what _you_ need.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” mouths Freda, backing away to the door. “Pleasure to meet you,” she says to Zach and slips out.

“How do you want to do this?”

“I want to feel the pain of you leaving.”

Chris looks at him sadly but nods. “Okay, did you want to sit?”

“No,” says Anton with a note of defiance. “I’ll stand.”

“It’s easier if I take you from behind,” says Chris. Zach hides his snicker behind his hand at the double entendre.

“Whatever.”

His hand still on Anton’s shoulder, Chris steps around until he’s standing behind him. He brushes Anton’s neck, smoothing his hair back, though it’s too short to really move much. Zach feels the stirring in his pants again.

“Same place?” Chris asks as his fangs extend. And Zach feels his dick swell.

“Wherever you like,” says Anton and gasps suddenly when Chris plunges his fangs into the soft flesh of his neck.

“Oh, fuck,” breathes Anton as the Vampire draws on his wound. Anton’s hand comes up, cupping Chris’s head, his fingers fisting in his hair. Chris takes five swallows before he pulls away, licking lips and fangs.

Anton staggers a little when he turns around, his eyes alighting on Chris’s long teeth, teeth covered in his blood. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighs. Chris helps him to the lounge and insists he have juice and a cookie.

The bar is due to close. Chris opens the door. “Take care, Anton,” he says gripping the kid’s shoulder for a brief moment.

“You too,” says Anton, eyeing Zach before he steps out, his head hanging.

“Ready?” asks Chris, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, if you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” says Chris. They find Lucia, but she doesn’t let Chris go without a firm hug and strong kiss.

“Behave yourself, Christopher Pine,” she says, then gives Zach a wicked smile and wink.

“When have I ever misbehaved?” he says innocently, but she just shoves him over the threshold.

“Good pick,” she says to Zach as he follows Chris.

“I think so, too.”

 

On the drive back to Zach’s apartment Chris notices the Were seems a little withdrawn.

“Are you okay? It wasn’t too much for you was it?” he asks. Zach seemed fine at the bar so Chris is confused at the sudden change in mood.

“Would it be better if you fed from me?”

“What?” Had Anton’s outburst got to him? “That’s crazy, no, it wouldn’t be better.”

“But that kid, Anton, basically begged for it. He wanted to make sure you never went hungry. I want the same thing.”

“I’m not going to feed from you Zach. Wereblood is not a substitute for human blood.”

“Why not?” They pull into the driveway and head for the elevator. Chris doesn’t answer until they’re inside the apartment.

“Okay, human blood is what Vampires eat, that’s our main staple. Wereblood is very different. It would be like drinking can after can of the most potent energy drink imaginable. Our strength heightens, our senses, even our ability to heal, but as much as that sounds cool and all, it’s not worth the addiction.”

“Addiction?” Zach looks very worried.

“Yeah, addiction. It’s okay in small doses, but copious amounts would see me practically eating you alive.”

“Oh fuck,” says Zach taking a step back from him.

“No,” he pleads, reaching. “Please don’t be frightened of me.” Zach’s eyes glisten and Chris is terrified he’s made a big mistake letting Zach know. After a terrifying moment, when he thinks he’s lost everything, Zach also reaches and takes a firm hold of Chris’s fingers before closing the gap between them.

“I’m not afraid,” says Zach, his face and body up close enabling Chris to take comfort in the Were’s scent. It isn’t lost on him that it’s the second time that night the Were has proclaimed as much.

Chris follows Zach to the bed, their fingers still entwined as he’s led to the rumpled duvet and sheets. Chris pulls off his shirt, shoes and jeans, sliding between the covers after an already naked Zach. Zach pulls him into a kiss again and though he’d been feeling a little guilty about Anton and the whole night, Chris’s thoughts soon turn to Zach. This is the true start, their chance to follow this path or whatever journey it is they’re taking together. He reaches for Zach, grasping the base of the Were’s still-firm cock, and takes his time sliding his hand along the rigid length.

“Mm,” Zach sighs, biting his lip as his leans his forehead against Chris’s.

Chris hauls back the covers, exposing them both to the rest of the apartment, but Noah’s toddled off to his dog bed, and Harold’s sitting on the back of the sofa, his eyes mere slits as he catnaps.

Chris moves down Zach’s lithe form, touching and stroking his body, enjoying the little flinches of his muscles as it tickles. His lips trail kisses over Zach’s abdomen and down to the thick bush of his pubic hair.

“Did you manage all your goodbyes, then?” Zach asks.

“Let’s not worry about tonight just now,” says Chris. “I’ve been eyeballing this cock all night.” And he swallows Zach down in one go.

“Oh, yes,” gasps the Were, his back contorting a little. Chris slides up gripping with his hand while his mouth leaves a trail of saliva to lubricate. He pushes Zach’s legs wider apart; settling himself between them, then lifts the heavy dick and presses his mouth to Zach’s balls. Zach keens when Chris gently sucks one into his mouth before letting it go.

“Easy,” whispers Chris.

“Dude, I am not gonna last,” breathes Zach. Chris can see the Were grasping at the sheets. “It’s like you’re running an ice cube over me,” he says, panting. “It’s not freezing, but it’s cold. Christ, it feels amazing.”

Chris feels himself harden as he pleasures Zach, but he ignores his own need, instead wanting only to concentrate on bringing Zach to orgasm. It feels odd that he won’t be biting, and for a moment he worries that he’s conditioned himself to do so when the person comes. The last thing he needs is the dreadful habit of his fangs elongating the moment Zach’s orgasm hits.

Zach’s writhing on the bed, gasping and clutching at Chris’s head as the Vampire continues to slide his mouth up and down the Were’s cock.

“Oh Jesus, Jesus fuck,” he cries and with the first throb of his orgasm, Chris takes him down his throat, pleased his fangs have remained as they are so he can swallow Zach’s come. “That was unbelievable, dude,” says Zach, “We will definitely be doing _that_ again.”

“Good to know my skill—”

“Shush, not now,” says Zach opening his arms in invitation. “Don’t spoil my afterglow.”

Chris smiles, and moves to snuggle against him. He’s delighted at how he’s made Zach feel, and comforted by the Were’s warm embrace.

“The question is,” Zach says, kissing Chris’s temple. “What do we do with you now?”

“You don’t have to—”

“Uh, uh, uh, I believe my words were ‘shush’, were they not?” Chris nods. Zach turns so Chris’s head is lying on his upper arm and he reaches across taking Chris in hand. He strokes him twice before spitting in his palm and gripping him again. Chris groans as the smooth warm saliva coats him, enabling Zach’s to slide easily over him. “I think a quick, firm hand job,” he says.

And he’s right. In no time Chris is coming, shooting over Zach’s hand as the Were pumps him hard and fast.

“Oh God, oh God,” Chris chants, clutching at Zach’s shoulders, his head leaning into Zach’s chest as his orgasm rushes through him.

They recover by cuddling, and Zach pulls up the covers, pulling Chris firmly into his arms, their legs entwined.

“Zach?” he says.

“Mm?” Zach replies but doesn’t open his eyes.

“I think I’d like to be exclusive. I’d like us to be an item.”

Zach’s eyes open and though he’s still relishing post coital bliss, there’s nothing but joy reflected in those dark eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that too,” he says.

Chris squeezes him further, and presses a kiss to his mouth. “I have a boyfriend,” he says softly.

“So do I,” says Zach.

 

There’s a definite spring in his step when Zach arrives at WOLPh the following Monday. He even managed to get a decent amount of sleep the previous night, in spite of staying up late fucking his new boyfriend. He smiles at the memory and muses that even the dark cloud of needing to speak to Leonard about Peter has failed to stifle his mood. Although, he quickly changes his expression when a couple of people he passes give him a funny look. It’s part of the reason he’s come in early, to get the Imus training course out of the way so he can start acquiring blood for Chris.

He leaves his briefcase in his office, but takes the metal one his crossbow is stored in back down to level 4.

“Mr Quinto, good morning,” says Kasia when he reaches her desk. “Come to complete the training then?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a smile. There’s been no indication about what the course entails, but since he was instructed to bring his crossbow there must be some kind of target practice.

Kasia leads them back to the elevator and chooses a level several more floors below ground. He watches the numbers as they descend, taking deep breaths along the way. He feels as though he’s about to undertake his finals again.

“This way, Mr Quinto,” she says. They exit the elevator and enter a small white room. There’s a door either side and she indicates the one on the right. “Straight through there,” she says. “You’ll see a tablet that you can log onto. It will take you through the theory side of the training. Once completed, you come back out and go through that door.” She points to the door on the left. “I’ll be waiting for you in there.”

“Sure,” he says, and still clutching the crossbow case, he goes through to another small room. It’s furnished with a chair and desk on top of which sits a tablet. He accidentally bumps the desk when he sits down, triggering the tablet’s screen to come to life. It’s asking for his regular sign on, so he types it in.

First comes a brief history lesson, which is very biased in Zach’s opinion, but WOLPh isn’t about to give any credence to the Vampires. Some of it he already knows and surprisingly it mentions Dominic Cane, the Vampire revolutionary that Chris had spoken of.

Then comes the protocols of conduct; how an Imus should behave, and be treated. Zach sinks further into the chair as the dos and don’ts are presented to him.

He’s allowed to hit Chris, whenever he likes, for whatever infraction.

He can demand anything of Chris, including self-harm to the Imus if it’s in the Dominus’ best interest.

He should bite Chris during the morphing process at the full moon for added strength, but may ingest Imus blood at any time.

An Imus may be used to alleviate the effects of consuming Vampire blood.

Imus should not be shown mercy, and punishment must be conducted swiftly.

Seek advice before removing fangs.

Zach, his palms sweating, places the tablet on the table. It continues to explain what can be done to ensure an Imus understands his place and obeys his Dominus without question, but Zach can’t read any more.

He skips through the rest, but there’s an assessment at the end. He manages to pass with a paltry 53%, but he’s thankful what little he knows enables him to get over the line.

As she said, Kasia is waiting for him in the next room. It’s a firing range, similar to those Zach’s seen in cop shows. “Are you okay?” she asks. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” says Zach, his voice almost seizing, his throat is so dry.

“Did you want a break before we continue, a drink of water perhaps? I know it’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“I’m fine, really. I’d just like to get this over with.”

“Of course.” She directs him to a bench and instructs him to load his crossbow. “Now see, if you flick that little panel there, yes that’s it, and pull that, you’ve got it, that way you can load more arrows. See?”

Zach nods, five arrows ready. He remembers he still has one in his apartment wall, and hopes his aim is a little more promising this time.

“Right, you’re set. It’s just a bit of target practice, making sure you understand how to use your weapon.”

“Okay,” says Zach, though he’s not entirely sure what this has to do with having Chris. He probably missed something when he flicked though the theory part, rather than read the rest of it.

He looks down the range, but instead of a paper silhouette target there’s the upper torso of a rubber dummy. It has no face, no arms and no distinguishing features, just the overall shape of a person.

Kasia goes to a touch pad set in the wall and types in a few commands. The rubber figure surges forward before stopping, setting the range for Zach to shoot.

Then a projection lights it up when the image of a sneering Vampire -- because Zach can see the fangs -- gives the torso a personality.

“When you’re ready,” says Kasia. Zach looks at the target and lifts his crossbow, his finger on the trigger. “You see that red spot?”

“Yes.” It’s right there on the chest. He doesn’t really need to be told what it signifies.

“You’ll want to aim for it, that’s where the heart is.”

He tries to steady his arm, he’s glad it’s just a projection because he’s pretty sure he’ll still have trouble, if the way he misfired in the park is any indication.

When he pulls the trigger he feels the bow release its tension, firing the arrow. It penetrates just below the red spot with a solid _thunk_.

“Excellent!” says Kasia. And another projection appears, again another Vampire although this one looks like a Hollywood rip-off with his pale eyes and prominent scowl.

The second arrow misses again, embedding itself to the left. Arrow three goes too far right and arrow four too far above.

“So close,” says Kasia.

Zach stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders and takes aim again. “I’ll get the next one,” he mutters.  The final projection covers the torso and had he not been paying attention he would have fired without thinking. Instead he drops his arm, the crossbow still loaded. “What the hell?”

“It’s important you get a taste of this, you may have to do it one day.”

“I’m not shooting him,” he says, turning away from the image. He can’t image where they got the picture, but it looks candid. Unlike the other projections, Chris isn’t looking at the camera.

“And if it was to turn on you, what then? You know it could kill you.”

“I know that, but I trust him.”

“You have to fire. Otherwise, given the score you got with the theory part, you’ll fail.”

“Will I still get access to blood if I fail?”

“I can’t stop that, you still need to feed it, but your failure to complete this course will affect your performance reviews, bonuses. You could even lose the Imus. Are you sure you don’t want to? It’s only a picture.”

“I know that,” he says looking back at Chris’s photo. He’s not in the mood to care about reviews and bonuses, his salary alone is enough to keep him living very comfortably. He does wonder about the loss of Chris, but since they’re not even official and it’s all just pretend, what can WOLPh possibly do? It’s not as though Chris can be handed back over to them when he was never theirs in the first place. “I’m not even going to contemplate the experience, let alone try it,” he says. “I’d rather fail this than know I shot an arrow through his heart.”

Kasia shakes her head. “Most Domini are unsure at first, but they eventually realize it’s for their own good. It’s just a stupid photo.”

The image looks as though it was taken here at WOLPh at some stage because Chris is dressed in a pressed shirt and tie. The kind he always wears when Zach brings him here. His mind made up, Zach un-nocks the final arrow before picking up the briefcase and putting the crossbow away. He has four arrows left. He wonders where he goes for replenishments, but for now he’s sworn off touching the thing again, let alone needing more ammo for it.

“I’m not firing. Mark me down as having failed the course.”

“Mr Quinto, please don’t do this. It means a lot to you, I get that, but have you seriously thought what you would do if it came at you with the intent to kill?”

“ _He’d_ never do that. He’s saved my life twice already. What does that say about everything we supposedly know?”

He leaves before she can answer, too upset at seeing Chris’s image with all those previous arrows sticking out.

 

Having made it real, Chris worries that he won’t be the boyfriend Zach truly deserves. He’s a Werewolf, living in a glorious apartment with an awesome job and—Chris’s favorite—a killer car. So Chris questions why a man like that would want someone like him. A Vampire. When Zach smiles at him it does look genuine, and he always wants to hold him or touch him, snuggling in close in spite of how cold Chris knows he is.

Making his way over to Zach’s place is an easy enough feat. He alternates between regular and Vampire speed, traversing the city in no time. He crosses the final street and stares up at the apartment, sees the glow of the TV flickering. Zach must be watching something. For a fleeting moment he wonders if he might be interrupting, that Zach’s enjoying a quiet evening, just him and his pets. It’s silly, because for one thing Zach asked him to come, and two, had Chris told Zach where he lived, then maybe Zach would come over to his instead.

Although he’s not ashamed of his living conditions, and there are plenty of Vampires who live a lot rougher, Chris doesn’t think it’s somewhere Zach would be at all comfortable. And what would they do? Play video games all night? Then tell him to piss off because Chris has to bunk down in his box? He’s being unfair. Zach wouldn’t see it like that. But what if he does?

Chris gets to the elevator and lets out a lip flapping sigh right before the doors open. His thoughts have killed his mood for the evening. Rather than being thrilled at seeing his _boyfriend_ , he’s cut himself deep enough to truly believe Zach probably doesn’t want him there. But before he has a chance to knock, the door swings open and Zach, his face showing pure elation, grabs him by the shirtfront and yanks him in for an all-consuming kiss.

“Oh, God,” Zach breathes between kisses. “Missed you, missed you really bad. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Chris’s heart has no choice but to thrum faster, forcing the darkness away as he reciprocates the kiss. “It’s only been twelve hours,” he says, chuckling as he tries to keep kissing.

“Mm, after the day I’ve had it’s been far too long,” says Zach, holding him so tightly Chris can almost feel his ribs begin to give.

“Okay, buddy, I gotta breathe,” he says, only just managing to finish speaking before Zach’s mouth takes hold.

“Just let me hold you, I need to know you’re alright. I won’t let anything happen, okay? I’m not like them, I’m _so_ not like them.””

“Is everything okay, dude?” Chris asks. “You seem a little, I don’t know, cuddly?” Though he’d never deny Zach’s need for a hug, their current track record should have them naked and the Were balls-deep by now.

“Just please understand that I will never, ever do anything to you. Ever. For as long as we’re together you are my equal.” Zach’s staring directly into Chris’s eyes. It’s startling and Chris is on alert.

“Zach, what happened? I know we’re equal.”

“I completed the course today. It’s probably one of the most horrific things I’ve ever seen, and that includes the Vampire attacks.”

“It’s okay, we’re fine, I’m fine.”

“I know,” says the Were, squeezing harder again. “I need to reassure myself that you’re here and okay and I won’t let them do anything bad to you.”

“Okay,” says Chris allowing Zach to crush him as he returns the embrace as best he can, patting him for added comfort. “We’re fine, we’re totally fine.”

Zach finally lets go, enabling Chris the chance to smile cheekily in the direction of the sofa. Zach needs little encouragement and drags Chris to it before giving him a shove, which sends him sprawling over the cushions. Chris looks up, just before Zach comes after him. This is more like it.

“Oh, I see,” he says, shifting his hips and legs to accommodate Zach’s lanky form on top of him. “You were just trying to distract me with your big bear hug.”

Zach’s already kissing him again, along his jaw and over his cheek. “Did I mention I missed you?”

“Maybe once or twice,” says Chris.

“Can you ever stay here?” The question, whether it’s been bouncing around in Zach’s mind or not, comes as a shock to both of them and he stares up into Zach’s incredibly, imploring eyes, as he waits for Chris’s answer.

“I don’t know, dude. Where would I sleep?”

“With me,” says Zach.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Oh,” says Zach as though he’s seen something in Chris’s face. “I guess not.” He pulls away and Chris, inwardly groaning, follows by sitting up.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I’d love to, in fact, but I don’t think you’d be comfortable having a dead body lying in your bed.”

“What?” says Zach.

“Um, weren’t you told stuff about us at your Werewolf school, or whatever, before you went to Pittsburgh?” asks Chris. It seems odd that Zach wouldn’t know.

“Yeah,” says Zach and Chris can see he looks terribly sheepish. “Most of what I was taught was about Were culture and a little of our history. It wasn’t like full time school; they were just a few lessons we attended once a week or something. I don’t really remember.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Well, for a start, when I sleep, I’m dead.” He sees the look on Zach’s face. “I’m called undead for a reason. When a Vampire sleeps, all the bits that give us life, like a heartbeat and breathing, that all stops.”

“Oh. Yes, I knew that, I guess I just thought it was more sleeping than, well, that.”

“Have you ever seen a dead body?”

“Like a dead human?”

“Dead anything.”

“Not really. My dad, he, well he took me to the den a few times when I was small. I don’t even remember where it was. I saw some pretty horrible things, including death, but there wasn’t exactly a body.”

“I see,” says Chris, looking away. “I still don’t understand how Weres think they’re superior.”

“It’s the reason Mom took us to Pittsburgh. She didn’t like it either, but she would never have left my father.”

“What was he like?” asks Chris. The memories he has of his own father portray a strong figure of authority. He didn’t see him much as a child, but when he was older he enjoyed the brief interludes they had. Robert seemed more comfortable talking to Chris as a man, than a child. A flash of his terrified face, spattered with blood fills Chris’s mind, and he blinks to clear it.

“Stubborn,” says Zach. “I was only seven when he died so my memories are sketchy, but I do remember he got his way and did what he wanted. He loved my mother very much, but I also remember they would shout at each other a lot. I think it was about Were stuff, but I couldn’t say.”

“What did he die of?”

“Car accident,” says Zach flatly. “I vaguely remember being at the hospital. He was there one day, and gone the next. My mother cried a lot, and I remember standing in the graveyard with a lot of people all somber and silent. It was the first time I saw a grown man cry. Leonard, he was devastated.”

“I’m sorry man,” says Chris.

“It was eons ago, and my father’s more a memory of someone I knew than someone who used to mean so much to me.”

“And Joe,” Chris asks, wanting to change the topic, but still wanting to know more. “Was your childhood one long torture session as the younger sibling?”

Zach laughs, “No more than usual. Sure I probably pissed him off on occasion but after we moved to Pittsburgh he was great. He helped Mom out a lot and I think, though we did have our moments, we knew not to be a burden to her.”

“How is she with you being here?”

“Not so good, but I think she’s managing. Joe’s still in Pittsburgh so she hasn’t been completely abandoned.”

“Would she be horrified at us?”

“Honestly, I think she’d be one of the few who might be actually happy for us.”

“Wow, nice to think there’s someone.”

“Joe…” Zach falters.

“Not so much?”

“He’d need a little more convincing I think.”

“I can’t complain if I manage to win the heart of two out of the three Quintos.”

Zach leans forward, and in his customary grabbing of Chris’s shirt front, hauls him forward so he can smother his mouth in a deep kiss. Chris wonders fleetingly if he’ll ever meet the rest of Zach’s family. Although, with his time limited as it is he’s happy to simply enjoy what he has with Zach. Thinking about the future too much only results in a dampening of his mood, and with Zach’s hand sliding under his shirt, the last thing he wants is to kill the moment.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all his good intentions, the decisions Zach is making seem to do more harm than good.

The new routine of Chris accompanying Zach to work soon settles into the same mundane existence of the average corporate worker. Though he disagrees vehemently about how Vampires in general are treated, Chris does his best to ensure neither he nor Zach come under suspicion of being anything other than Dominus and Imus in the eyes of the other executives.

It’s annoying and often leaves him with a rawness in the back of his throat from stifling all the things he really wants to say when a Were tells him what to do or expects him to comply with a simple look. It only gets worse when he sees the other Imus obeying without question, jumping to immediately fulfil their Domini’s needs. He’s aware Zach has a sympathetic look when he asks and Chris can see him struggle when he’s caught and has no choice but to issue Chris an order in front of others.

Zach always drives the Mustang into WOLPh, because Chris can’t be seen to be in any way associated with owning a car. The constant reminder that he is different and unworthy stokes his agitation, in spite of the fact that he goes straight for the passenger side. At one point he wondered why the Weres didn’t make Vampires their drivers, but he’s certain it’s because they prefer to have control of the car themselves.

Tonight it all seems to have festered into a nasty sore point. Chris slides out and heads for the elevator, waiting for Zach to pull out his pass.

“You okay?” the Were asks as he presses it to the panel.

“Fine,” says Chris, sullen.

“You don’t sound fine, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Zach,” he says, again waiting for Zach to enter the elevator first. He hides his fisted hands in the pockets of his coat. “Any luck finding out when Mr Nimoy gets back?”

“No, Jacob just keeps telling me that he will pass on my numerous messages as soon as he returns. I’m sure he’s due back soon and I’ll definitely speak to him the moment he walks back into WOLPh, even if I have to tie him to a chair.”

“Did they take Rachel and Hemsworth?” Chris asks when they enter the foyer and head for the security gates.

“Yeah, WOLPh owns a plane or two, apparently they’re fitted out to accommodate Vampires.”

“Thoughtful of them,” says Chris.

“There’s that tone again, will you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, there’s no tone, nothing’s wrong.” Unless you consider how Vampires are nothing but shit in the eyes of Weres. “Do you want me to head for the Vampire hold?”

“Jesus, will you just…” Zach stops Chris at the elevators, scans around the foyer before hustling him into the stairwell. “Okay, what’s with you? Will you please just tell me what the fuck is going on in there?” he says cupping the Vampire’s face and forcing him to look directly in those goddamn, frustrating, calm-as-fuck eyes!

Chris pulls back to free himself. “I’ve had enough, Zach. This is more than any Vampire should have to bear. Come on, man; the way I’m treated in here, the way _any_ of us are treated is beyond appalling.”

“I know that,” says Zach letting out a breath and pushing a hand through his hair. “But what choice do we have? Can’t you hold out a little longer? You gave me until February.”

Chris looks away. “Dude, seriously, it’s just getting to me. I’m dealing with people—okay, Vampires who are happy to live like this, who are willing to just fucking roll over because of what they are.”

Zach’s expression changes and Chris sees his upper lip stiffen the way it always does when Zach gets angry or deadly serious. “I want to show you something,” he says.

Suddenly on the alert, Chris follows Zach out to the elevators. Once they’re in one the Were scans his card and enters a code, but instead of going up, they go down. “This will probably shock you.”

When the doors open Chris sees a small glass room with a large white cupboard. Zach extracts a couple of lab coats and blue cloth slippers, indicating that Chris put them on.

Wordlessly, Chris follows Zach through a high tech looking laboratory. It’s devoid of people, but several machines are whirring and pinging, continuing the work while their users get some sleep. They reach a door and Zach faces him, his eyes serious. “This will be very confronting for you,” he says. “Stay close.” Chris nods.

Chris had no idea what he should have expected beyond the door, but the sight that greets him has him backing up several steps until Zach catches hold of him before he falls.

“Oh my- are they, is this…?” he mumbles his mouth dry and his heart almost leaping from his chest. Row upon row of large, clear plastic humidicribs, each holding a body, line the floor in disturbing uniformity.

“These are Kine,” says Zach quietly.

“Oh sh- oh shit,” Chris breathes clutching onto Zach since he doesn’t trust his legs to fully support him.

“This is where the Imus have come from, their alternative,” says Zach. Chris can’t speak, all the moisture is gone and his tongue is sticking to the roof and sides of his mouth like a tumor. “During a full moon selected Wolves will find Vampires who, rather than die, submit themselves to become Kine. They are brought here to WOLPh and they undergo the process that puts them in here.”

“You search for us?” Chris murmurs his voice barely discernable.    

“Chosen Wolves do. The rest of us, as you know—” He pauses. “Hunt.”

“Oh, God. I didn’t know you actually went looking for potential slaves.” Chris manages to stand, but moves on shaking legs to the closest crib. Inside is a man, a very young man, barely out of his teens. He reminds Chris of Anton, and a painful lump lodges itself in his throat.

“I’m truly sorry, Chris, but I thought you should see.”

Chris nods, he’d had no idea. He knew about Kine, but never really understood what it meant, only that those he’d heard as being taken, never came back to explain what went on. He thinks of Victor and how the big ass Vampire was sentenced to return to a place like this.

“Get me out of here,” he says, his voice stronger.

“Sure,” says Zach and it’s not until he feels the Were’s hands on his shoulders that Chris looks away from the trapped Vampire in the crib. Zach guides him back through the lab, then takes the lab coat and slippers before leading him into the elevator. “You okay? Do you want to leave?”

Chris shakes his head. “You need to work. I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t feel so good after seeing them for the first time either. In fact I had a pretty bad time keeping lunch down,” says Zach with a smile that doesn’t reach any other part of his face. “But I guess that’s of little consequence.”

“You’re damn right,” says Chris. “All this time WOLPh’s been harboring legions of Vampires. How long have you been collecting us?”

“ _I_ haven’t been collecting anyone,” says Zach. “And I don’t know, I guess a while considering the numbers.”

“Do you know how many?”

“No, I don’t. It’s not my area, which makes it sound trivial, but believe me, I know it’s not.” Chris refuses to look at Zach; he can’t. How can he look at a man who’s part of an organization that treats his kind like test tubes? “Are we okay?”

“I don’t know,” says Chris, staring at the ceiling.

The elevator opens and Zach follows him along the hall to the room where Chris is expected to spend the next however many hours while his Dominus goes to work.

Zach opens the door for him. There are only a couple of others in there, but Chris walks straight in without looking back. “Bye,” the Were says and Chris can hear the forlorn note, but won’t give Zach the satisfaction of thinking all’s forgiven by looking back. He hears the door close and moves to sit in one of the chairs next to a Vampire he’s seen here before but never spoken to. She’s reading a magazine, a cup of blood on the table beside her.

“So how fucked up was it to be Kine?” Chris asks.

 

“Aw shit,” Zach sighs, slumping back in the car seat. “You didn’t, did you? Why would you ask what it’s like to be Kine?”

He’d spent longer in the office than he initially meant to, but the emails from the previous afternoon all seemed to demand an urgent answer. He pinches his brow, trying to focus on the traffic, but Chris’s admission has him remembering the numerous emails he’d received from Peter prior to his trip to China. _When did you acquire the Vampire? Why are the Vampire’s details missing in the system? Are you certain the Vampire was processed correctly? Can you confirm the Vampire’s actual age?_ Though the emails are a few weeks old now, Zach hadn’t mentioned them to Chris. He didn’t want the Vampire to worry and feel as though he was being watched.

“Yeah well, I figured it’d add to my performance, you know? If I have a better understanding I can act _so_ much more grateful to have won the Imus lottery.”

“Jesus Christ.” Zach clutches the steering wheel, dread seeping through every limb. The paranoia he’d managed to ignore with his increasing workload almost chokes off his air supply. Do they really know? Have they been that obvious that Peter and Leonard know and are just watching and waiting for a moment to strike? He can’t imagine what would happen to him, but he’s pretty sure there’d be little choice for Chris. “You seriously asked?”

“Hell yeah I did,” he says. His smile is wide, but Zach knows he’s anything but happy. That cocky, devil-may-care look is all Zach needs to know Chris is pissed. “You know they stick the biggest fucking needle they can find into our arms to drain out our blood? Then they shove an equally big-ass tube down our throat that drips the teeniest amount of blood to make sure we don’t crumble to ash.”

“Chris,” says Zach with a sigh.

“Not that it would be a quick death. There was this guy that knew a guy that knew a guy, you know, I’ve been around, and he said it took the Vampire fifty fucking years to starve! Now _that’s_ a slow death.”

“Jesus,” says Zach, unsure if he’s more disturbed by the story, or the nonchalant way in which Chris is telling it.

“You know what else you fuckers like to do? You like to rip out our fangs. How many of those Kine back there are fangless?”

“Okay, you’re pissed,” says Zach, ignoring the gruesome question. “I get it, and you have every right to be angry, but we have a lot of suspicion hanging over us without adding any more reason for them to watch us.”

“And what about all the other Vampires slowly petrifying back there? Jesus, Zach, you want me to understand Werewolves aren’t all bad, but it’s a little hard when I’m shown a fucking battalion of sleeping undead!” shouts Chris.

“I’m sorry!” says Zach, exasperated. “Should I not have shown you? I’m sorry that’s what happens, I’m sorry I’m not Vampire, I’m sorry I don’t have any other way to stop from being killed.”

“This isn’t about _you_ , Zach,” says Chris bitterly. “This is about my kind being treated like guinea pigs and kept alive in a prison that doesn’t even have the decency to let them be awake.”

Zach feels lost, he can’t fight this fight. He hasn’t lived the life of a Werewolf to defend their actions, and he hasn’t been around Vampire long enough to truly understand their plight. If he hadn’t been taken by the twins he and Chris would never have met and if he hadn’t come across from Pittsburgh, then none of this would have happened. He’d be just fine in his dead end job, coming home to Matt and living a life free of challenge and motivation and anything else he ever wanted. He never wanted this for Chris, it just happened. They were both in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Zach can’t argue that if it hadn’t been for Chris’s genuine compassion he would already be dead.

The silence becomes a vehement static by the time he parks the car. His throat is so dry and so choked that a lump is burning a hole through his esophagus. Chris glares at him as they make their way to the elevator. The argument clearly isn’t over and the Vampire is waiting for his retaliation. “I needed you,” Zach says, his voice gruff.

“You didn’t need me. You just showed me the thousands of choices you could have made instead,” says Chris standing belligerently in front of the elevator.

“It didn’t feel right to choose one of them,” says Zach, thumping the wall instead of pushing the button. “With you, I felt…it felt…”

“Right?” says Chris the fervor in his voice gone. Zach watches the Vampire’s eyes soften, his lips part in comprehension. “I felt it too.”

Zach’s brows draw together. “They talk about this bond thing, what if—” He pauses, trying to figure out how their bond formed so quickly.

“What if it develops faster with a Rogue?” Chris finishes.

“Oh my God,” says Zach.

Their eyes connect and the anger they felt moments ago vanishes when they come together hard, mouths joining in an urgent kiss. Zach fumbles for the elevator button and they almost fall into it when the doors ding open. Clothes are shed as they ascend, and they hobble into Zach’s apartment as they struggle with buttons and zippers and exceptionally long legged pants. They don’t even make it to the bed. Bent over the coffee table, Zach nudges Chris’s legs apart before lubing up and sliding in.

“Ah fuck, yes,” Chris sighs, gripping the edges until Zach’s fully lodged. Zach stills a moment and the Vampire settles across the table, bending his arms to cradle his head. Zach curls over him, grasping for his fingers as he begins to fuck. He noses into Chris’s hair, inhaling his scent, loving the feel of the Vampire’s cool body and tight hole. Chris’s ear is close to his mouth and he teethes it slightly, delighting in the sigh, and that’s when he lets the growl in his throat rumble. He feels the Vampire tense almost instantly, but at the same time Chris is moaning and spreading his legs wider, pushing up against him as he shivers. He nips at Chris’s shoulders and growls again. Chris groans loudly even though his body quakes. Zach changes his bites to kisses, clutches at Chris’s neck to pull his head back and licks right into his ear.

“You’re the one thing that makes my life worthwhile,” he whispers. “I can’t apologize enough for what Weres do to your kind, but please know I will do what I can.”

“It won’t be enough,” says Chris softly and Zach can hear the resignation.

“I know, but if one Werewolf heart can change, there must be others. Like Vampires, surely we’re not all bad.”

He feels Chris press into him, tipping his head back so it leans against his shoulder. “Promise you’ll remember that when you choose my replacement.”

“You really think I’ll just carry on as always when you’re no longer with me?”

“You’ll find another,” Chris grunts reaching back. Zach can feel the Vampire’s hand clutching at his ass, encouraging him to thrust harder. He complies and Chris joins the tempo, grunting with each stroke.

“No,” says Zach, unsure if Chris can hear over his own cries. “I won’t.”

Chris comes first, shooting over the coffee table moments before Zach empties himself in his ass. He clings to Chris, his forehead pressed hard against the back of the Vampire’s neck. The chill is so soothing to his sweat-lathered body. He lets himself soften, refusing to let go until he’s able to simply slip out. He eventually lets Chris go and they flop on the sofa to further their recovery.

Chris reaches for him, and he opens his hand to allow the Vampire to entwine their fingers. “I know it’s not your fault, Zach. I’m sorry about what I said.”

“Don’t even,” says Zach, still getting his breath back as he shakes his head. He looks to Chris and almost melts under his repentant gaze. “You deserve so much more.”

“I just…” He tugs at Zach’s hand and he knows the Vampire wants to say more but perhaps can’t voice it the way he’d like to. He squeezes Zach’s fingers. “Why’d we have to meet now?”

“Fate’s way of telling a joke?”

Chris smiles and it’s genuine and Zach’s pleased to see it. “Clean up, come to bed and let me blow you.”

“Already?” says Zach only now managing to breathe normally.

“Yeah, nice and slow.”

True to his word, Chris sucks slowly and sweetly and manages to pull another orgasm out of Zach though he can feel his body begin to tire. Chris lets him remain prostrate and sidles up to his head, straddling his face. Zach pulls him closer and Chris grips the bed head, using his arms and body to slide his dick into Zach’s waiting mouth. Again, the rhythm is slow and Chris shoots down Zach’s throat with a loud groan. Zach kisses him when they’re snuggled on the bed, their arms about each other. And just as he’s about to fall asleep Zach hears a whisper so soft he’s unsure if it’s real or dream.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

 

With the deadline of his jaunt into the desert looming, though he only admits it to himself, Chris is really starting to get quite worried about it. Not the process, he’s sure he has that covered; he’s just concerned he’ll change as a person, as his ability to turn others becomes his new status. His own turning had been violent and brutal; the creature that had taken him had not considered him as a person with a life, and a family. No sooner was he off the horse when his neck had been opened, and the Vampire’s poison had riddled his body, giving him no chance to ever be the same again. For a long time his anger had him plotting revenge to find and kill his Maker. But as time wore on, and especially after he met Patrick, the rage mellowed to a calm resentment. Then, after a few centuries, he managed to forgive and reduce his ire to nothing more that a shadow of regret.

The city is in the throes of the Christmas season. Banners and colored lights adorn every window. CBD council decorations hang from light posts, and everywhere there are people carrying loaded bags or boxes.

Since they became exclusive, Chris has been spending every free moment of his time with Zach. He’d forgotten what it was like to be at the beginning of a new relationship. The elation of being together, thinking of each other and enjoying the knowledge that out there somewhere at any given time there’s a person who is just for you. It helps that he has to go into work with Zach, and even weekend plans are made with each other in mind. But, Zach’s work seems to have doubled, and more often than not they get home to Zach’s apartment, where all he can manage is a quick bite to eat before falling asleep on the sofa in front of the TV.

Spending long nights alone is nothing new for Chris. He’d spent night after night alone in the years following Patrick’s death. Then one night, he was looking up at the night sky and saw it for all its spectacular beauty. He could make out a few familiar constellations that his father had once pointed out and the glorious band of stars of the Milky Way like the diamonds of a tiara. With his sight being as good as it was in daylight, he could even see a planet. Later he discovered it was Jupiter, having acquired a telescope, and his passion for observing the celestial heavens began.

For the past few weeks, Chris had been tracking the comet ISON, in the hopes of showing Zach, because it’s truly a once in a lifetime experience, unless you’re a Vampire. Unfortunately the event came and went since a few days earlier the comet disintegrated when it flew to close to the sun. Chris had been disappointed, but remained hopeful that there might be fragments of the comet still visible before it completely vaporized into undetectable molecules. Each night since Chris had first seen the comet through the telescope, he’d tried to prize Zach away from his laptop, but each night Zach would wave him off with the same excuse that he was too busy.

After showing up at the apartment and being duly ignored, again, Chris begins to wonder if they’ll ever have a moment where they can just be together without WOLPh intervening.

“Can’t you have at least five minutes?” Chris asks. Zach’s set up the dining table as a mini office with his laptop front and centre, and the rest of his reports and files strewn about around it. He seems to have forgotten about the attacks and that he should speak to Leonard about their suspicions that it’s Peter wanting him dead.

“Not really,” he says typing away at fuck knows, without even looking up. Chris thinks he looks extremely cute with his glasses, but right now all he wants to do is rip them from his face, and hurl them across the room. Childish? Yes, but it would certainly be effective.

Chris has to remember Zach’s turned his world upside down to accommodate the fact that Chris can only function at night. He feels bad that Zach hasn’t seen the sun for a while now, but hell, he hasn’t seen it in almost five hundred years!

He sighs heavily, exaggerating his slouch as he flops into one of the dining chairs, looking pointedly at Zach. Zach’s still typing, but happens to glance up, and sees Chris’s sullen face. He punches one last key and pulls off his glasses. Oh yes, very cute.

“Chris, I am up to my eyeballs in deadlines here. The rest of my team hasn’t seen me either. If we want this launched within the timeframe we promised, I’m afraid I have to get all this done,” he says indicating the piles of paper surrounding him.

“I didn’t think you were dating your team. Last time I checked you were _my_ boyfriend. Seems WOLPh has become the exclusive now.” He’s being petulant, but goddamn, when he and Patrick first got together they almost forgot to eat they were so busy fucking.

Zach drops his glasses onto the table, and rubs his face with his hands. “Alright, I guess I could do with a quick break.”

“Awesome,” says Chris, leaping from his chair, and zipping around the table to haul Zach out of his. “There’s something I want to show you.”

While Zach’s been plugging away at his laptop, Chris found how he could reach the roof. He’s set up his telescope behind the shadow of a large air conditioning unit, as it blocks out some of the city light glare.

“Hey cool, when did you do this?” asks Zach, hands on hips as he admires Chris’s telescope.

“Well, you would have seen me carrying a large box through your apartment if you’d bothered looking up once in a while. Did you even know you have rooftop access?”

“I don’t know, maybe, if I was told I don’t remember. What is it you wanted to show me?”

Chris bends over to look through the eyepiece, and makes a few adjustments before straightening again. “There, take a look.”

Zach leans forward, shutting one eye so he can focus through the lens. “Oh, wow,” he says. “That’s really awesome.” Chris knows he’s looking at the comet—well, the remaining bits of it. It forms a cloud of glittery debris as the sun’s light reflects off the pieces of shattered ice. “Hey, is this that comet they were talking about the other day on the TV?”

“This is the last time anyone will ever see it. What’s left of it. It was whole before it was annihilated by the sun.”

“Oh,” says Zach, and Chris can hear an apology in his tone. “Guess I should be privileged to see it then,” Zach continues, straightening.

“I saw it when it came around in sixteen-eighty.”

Zach gives him a funny look before he takes his hand and pulls him closer. “Then I’m even more privileged to have met you.” He drops a kiss on Chris’s lips, but it doesn’t remain light, developing into a deeper kiss when he wraps his arms around him. The Vampire is just happy he has a moment with Zach. He slides his hands down Zach’s back, pushing his fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He pushes Zach against the air conditioner. Zach grunts, but doesn’t stop kissing. Chris’s hands move around to the front, and he begins undoing the button and fly.

“Now that I’ve lured the fly into my web…” whispers Chris. If he’s going to get any, he’ll just have to get it himself.

“I have to get back,” says Zach, but Chris is fishing him out of his jeans, and he gasps when his dick is exposed to the cool night air. Winter is here. Chris strokes him firmly but lazily, taking his time to bring Zach to hardness. “But I can hold off a bit longer, nothing that can’t wait.”

"Good,” says Chris, “because it's my turn." Zach’s pupils dilate, which is pleasing to Chris since he’s had to wait far too long for Zach’s attention. They’ve been together, officially, for almost two weeks, and he’s getting impatient. But he still thinks Zach needs to be taught a lesson for keeping him waiting. "You're not allowed to touch me."

"What?" says Zach, his voice full of disbelief. “What do you mean?”

"Don't touch me, Zach," says Chris pushing him firmly against the metal wall when the Were tries to move. He shoves Zach’s jeans and boxers down to his knees then kneels in front of him, taking Zach’s dick in hand again, and beginning to stroke. Zach complies, leaning against the wall his hands in fists, as he tries to restrain himself.

"Why can't I touch you?" he asks with a slightly strained tone. Chris knows his fingers are colder than the night that surrounds them, but he’s enjoying the fact that in spite of this Zach’s fully erect, and already leaking pre-come over them.

Chris doesn't answer, but looks straight into Zach's eyes, as his tongue slides out. He runs it over the firm round end, lapping at the clear fluid. "Because it's my turn," says Chris between licks.

"Fuck," breathes Zach, "Yeah okay, your turn. Jesus, that feels good."

He slides the Were's cock along his tongue before it enters his mouth, and tugs at Zach's balls trying not to smile when he hears the mumbled expletive, and Zach’s long legs try their best not to buckle. His hands delve into Chris’s hair, but Chris lets go of Zach's nuts to pull them away pressing them beside him. He tries not to chuckle at the frustrated growl from above.

When he looks up he can see Zach’s breath, as a fine vapor. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his hands are clenched so tight his knuckles are white. Chris stands and kisses Zach hard, his tongue plunging into the Were's mouth. Zach's arms come up to embrace, but Chris knocks them away.

"Nuh-uh," he says against the Were's mouth. "Don't touch me." He turns then, his back to Zach, and he knows the Were is having great trouble keeping his hands from smoothing over his cold back. He yanks down his sweat pants and jocks before reaching behind, and taking hold of Zach's cock, guiding it carefully to his ass. Having been his plan all along Chris had lubed up after setting up the telescope. All he had to do was drag Zach up here.

"Oh, oh fuck yes," says Zach, as Chris lines him up and pushes himself back against him. "Oh Jesus, that's so fucking hot." Chris knows Zach can see his cock disappear into the cool depths of his hole. He grits his teeth, and forces Zach's dick into his body. He sighs when he feels himself accept the intrusion, feels his own cock throb at the burn on his ring. It’s been far too long, and he’s overjoyed to once again feel the Were inside him.

Zach's hands cling to Chris’s hips, but Chris pulls them off pushing backward, so Zach is firmly up against the wall, and takes hold of a smaller vent sticking up from the roof in front of him. Slowly he pulls himself off then pushes back again, sliding Zach's cock in and out of his body, as the Were moans.

"Oh God yes, fuck yourself, fuck yourself on my cock," he garbles.

Chris is biting his lip trying to keep control, as his own cock throbs with neglect. His pre-come is dripping on the concrete as Zach's cock is rubbing a particularly nice spot with each stroke. "God, yes," he breathes.

"Let me touch you," says Zach from behind him, and a big warm hand slides over his back to emphasize the point.

Chris stands, still joined, and presses his back against Zach's chest. "No touching," he says with a moan, as he continues to move.

"Fuck, Chris, this is killing me."

"Then maybe you’ll stop work occasionally, so we can do fun stuff, like fucking."

“Okay, I get your point, but I thought our time together would be, I don’t know, a little more romantic.”

“The stars are all out tonight, and we looked at the remnants of a comet that hasn’t been seen in over three hundred years. What did you need, dinner and roses?”

“I just thought—oh, God!”

Chris leans his head back, resting it against Zach’s shoulder. He stills for a moment, reaching up to comb his fingers through Zach’s hair. “So you’d rather go back to your fucking work, or fucking me?”

“Jesus, fucking you, dammit! It’s just frustrating that I can’t touch you,” he says, but before his hand even reaches Chris’s stomach, Chris gives a warning.

“Uh, uh, uh, not yet,” he croons, leaning forward again to grasp the vent. He changes his pace, vigorously pushing back again and again onto Zach. The metal of the air conditioner clatters as they continuously bump into it. The Were’s frustration becomes apparent when a noise, deep in his throat, rumbles loudly.

Chris gasps, clinging to the vent before his legs threaten to buckle, and a surge of fear rushes through him. Oh God, there it is again, Zach’s wolf growl. Panting, Chris clings to the terror, almost crumpling to the ground as he senses it, just there, the vulnerability he’s always trying to grasp and hold.

Zach continues to beg and curse, desperate to touch Chris. And yet the Vampire is too overcome, that all this time Zach has had the ability to help him feel as he once did: human. He’d felt it when Zach had fucked him over the coffee table, but he’d been unsure, deciding to put it down to the moment of frantic need. But the effect now is just as powerful; reaching into that deep, primal center that knows he’s not invincible. It makes him shudder and with it Zach comes, shooting into Chris with a low groan, clinging to his own messed up hair in his need to hold onto something.

Chris straightens, keeping Zach inside him, and takes one of the Were’s hands to place over his solid dick. He shivers, hoping he’ll be able to entice that beautiful noise from the Were again.

“Stroke me, Zach,” he says panting.

“Oh, now I get to touch you?”

“Unless you’d rather not.”

“Shut up,” Zach growls, oh yes, his mouth on Chris’s neck nipping tenderly along the skin. He uses Chris’s pre-come as lube, stroking his tingling flesh in long hard pumps.

“Fuck, yeah,” Chris sighs. He grunts when Zach increases his speed, spreading his legs slightly, so he can flex his hips. He reaches behind pulling Zach into him, desperate to keep their connection. Zach’s beginning to harden again, and they move together, undulating against the wall. “Oh, fuck,” cries Chris, clinging to Zach’s ass as his hips push against the Were’s hand. “Oh God, I’m coming!” Chris squeezes Zach’s backside, pressing against him as he shoots. “God, yes,” he moans, pushing a hand into Zach’s hair. Zach pulls him closer, as his arms go about Chris’s chest. Chris is leaning on Zach, who’s leaning against the wall, each panting for breath.

Chris pulls off gently, wincing slightly because the withdrawal is always a disparaging moment, when he feels his lover leave him. He turns and kisses Zach with a kind of urgency.

"That was incredible," says Zach. Chris feels Zach's hands slide up either side of his back before smoothing back down to grip his ass cheeks. “Thank you.”

"My pleasure," he says softly. “Back to work?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the comet bits again. Is there other stuff you can show me, like a planet?”

“Yes, absolutely,” says Chris, eagerly pulling up his pants before he starts fiddling with the telescope.

He shows Zach the comet again, and then finds Saturn, but before he lets Zach go he focuses on one final thing, the Moon.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” says Zach, peering at the heavenly body responsible for his transformations each month. “It’s really very beautiful. I can even see craters.”

“Yeah, even though we take it for granted, it’s remarkable seen through a telescope.”

Zach pulls the Vampire in close, and kisses Chris’s forehead. “Thank you for dragging me up here. It hadn’t occurred to me how much I was neglecting you even if you were right beside me.”

“I’m glad we get to be together, but I need to know you’re with me too.”

“Always,” says Zach, and this time kisses him on the mouth.

A few hours later, as dawn’s glow wakens the city, Chris lets himself into his locker. He hasn’t felt the regret of being a Vampire for a very long time, but this morning he definitely feels it, since he hadn’t wanted to leave. Zach’s apartment isn’t light-proof, but even if it were he can’t imagine the Were would appreciate a dead body lying around the apartment. But tonight Chris feels the desperate sorrow of having to part with Zach. With the knowledge that Zach’s growl has the desired effect of making him feel so fragile, all Chris wants is to curl up beside him and let the Were be _his_ protector.

He climbs into his box, taking little comfort in the fact that Zach too, will be heading for bed, and lies back against the red velvet, sighing as he wishes for the hundredth time he could be back in the apartment. Of course, he knows the instant night steals across the sky he can once again return, but until then, here is where it’s safest for him to sleep. He decides then it’s well overdue: Zach needs to see the locker and finally learn where Chris lives.

 

The relief Zach feels after weeks of seemingly non-stop work is like a fire being quenched by a deluge. He sends off his final report with a huge sigh, and crumples in the chair, thankful that he and his team have come through and completed everything in time.

He momentarily drops his head to the desk, which is when Zoë decides to walk through his open door.

“Defeat or relief?” she asks, placing a file on his desk that he knows will be her new marketing proposal.

“It was relief,” he says gripping the file with his fingertips to slide it closer. “But I guess that can easily change.” He opens it to Zoë’s elaborate, signature style. She always manages to have her way, and he can see why; the research her team provides is exemplary.

“I don’t need an answer straight away, but it would be a nice Christmas present,” she says.

Zach finishes flipping through, and looks up, “No, it should be fine for Christmas. How far is that, three weeks?”

“It’s next Wednesday,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you remember the email that went out saying we could leave early on Christmas Eve?”

“No, I do not,” he says swiping a hand over his face. Time is moving far too quickly, which only makes him think of Chris and the countdown to the 16th of February. He hasn’t even had time to worry about speaking with Leonard. The text he’d received several days ago asked if it was urgent, or could Zach wait until they could speak in person. Zach replied that he could wait. Without Peter on the scene he feels a lot less apprehensive.

‘Please tell me you know it’s the full moon tomorrow,” Zoë says, sounding worried.

Zach hesitates. “Well, I do now.”

“Honestly, Zach, this sort of thing should be handled by your Executive Assistant!”

“Yes I know,” and in truth he has managed a shortlist, but then there’s the interviewing process, and he’s not sure what to do there since he’s never had to hire anyone.

“That does it, it’s out of your hands. I’ll ask Jacob to find someone. We’ll put them on three month probation, then if you don’t like them we can try again, but at least then you’ll have someone looking after all the admin stuff.”

“Yeah, okay,” he relents. Leonard’s EA Jacob wouldn’t have been his first pick of recruiter, but given he has little choice and even less time he figures Zoë’s right, and he really does need someone now.

“Send your candidates to Jacob; I’m going to see him now. Go through that,” she says, pointing at her proposal. “And give me an answer as soon as you can. At this rate we’ll be down our head of finance if you don’t start looking after yourself. Where’s your Imus?”

“With the others, I think.”

“Okay,” she says rolling her eyes. “You’ve got to be the only Dominus happy to let his Imus run wild.”

“He _is_ an adult; I don’t need to hold his hand.”

“No, but he needs to understand his place.”

Zach cringes, remembering the training course. It’s difficult to believe that all the Weres who have Imus went through it. He views Chris as his equal. He’d never tell Chris what to do, except for instances when they have to ‘play the game’. “He knows,” he says dismissively.

After Zoë leaves, Zach emails off the list of applicants, and almost instantly receives Jacob’s reply saying he would be happy to source him an EA. Zach’s glad that at least he’s been able to delegate something from the pile he always seems to accumulate.

He wonders how Chris is doing with the other Imus. He’s often lonely for the Vampire, wishing he could have him here. But that would only lead to distraction, and very little work would be accomplished then. After work, Zach stops at a 24-hour pharmacy to buy some colloidal silver. Chris is waiting in the car, and he remembers belatedly that he hasn’t told the Vampire about his plan. His mind has been preoccupied with the work he had to get done for WOLPh, but with the stress of it over he’s hoping his usually reliable memory won’t have any further lapses.

“Dude, what’s this?” asks Chris holding up the bottle, as they drive to Zach’s apartment. Zach’s night had been long and draining, and all he wants to do is fall into bed.

“Colloidal silver,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Silver? What do you want with silver?”

“It’ll stop me changing if I drink it. It’s all I can do to stop myself from harming you guys.”

“That’s extreme, I appreciate it, but…” Chris pauses, putting the bottle back in the bag. He’s silent for a while, but Zach can almost hear his thoughts tumbling around. “You’re sure?”

“Chris, my first full moon here was one of the worst experiences of my life. I’m not about to turn into a killer again. I refuse to let it happen, and I don’t care that I should because I’m Werewolf,” says Zach pointedly.

Chris pulls the bottle out of the bag again. “Thank you. This really means a great deal.”

“You’re welcome,” says Zach, calming a little. His agitation is mostly fear, but the last thing he needs is an excuse, any excuse, to back out of the whole thing.

“So can you like, talk to Noah when you’re a Wolf?”

“What?” says Zach. “Where the hell, what makes you think…?”

“Because you’re a Wolf, I thought maybe you could, you know, communicate with him somehow.”

“Oh my God, seriously, this is a serious question you’re asking? No, I don’t communicate with my dog! And need I remind you I’m a Werewolf, not a regular wolf, and Noah’s a dog for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay, then. I guess that answers that.”

“Alright, answer me this,” says Zach feeling smart-ass. “Can you chat to bats, hmm? Discourse with the odd mosquito?”

“No.”

“I figured.” Of all the things to ask!

“I was just asking.”

“No shit.” But Zach’s not angry, merely confused at Chris’s bizarre thought process.

“Is it safe?” Chris asks, holding up the bag with the bottle of silver.

“As far as I know it is,” says Zach, thankful the conversation has returned to normal. “I spoke with my mom about it.”

“Oh,” says Chris, sounding surprised. “Will you be okay? Do you want me to stay with you?”

“I don’t know what will happen, and to be honest, I _am_ worried about being alone. But I’d hate to think I might hurt you if it doesn’t work.”

“That’s okay, I have an idea,” says Chris.

 

The following night, like all Vampires across the city, the country and the world, Chris prepares for a night in. He tidies his locker, straightening and cleaning up, because it will be the first time Zach has come to his place. He’s extremely nervous, but once he’d made the suggestion Zach had agreed that it was a really good idea.

Worried that Zach’s colleagues might go to the apartment looking for him, Chris suggested Zach come to his locker. He’s been meaning to have Zach over for a while, but with his work it was becoming close to impossible. This way, Chris figures if Zach still turns into a Wolf then he can lock him inside, preventing him from going out to harm others. If it does work, then Zach won’t be alone to suffer the effects. Chris can tell the Were is anxious. It’s probably daunting for a Were to mess around with the transformation process, especially one who’s still learning the intricacies of his species.

He checks the bolt that’s firmly anchored to the concrete floor and gives the length of silver chain a good hard yank. In spite of him wanting to protect other Vampire, Chris needs to take precautions for himself, although he hopes he doesn’t have to use it. He’s already seen Zach wrapped in a chain and the idea of having to witness it again is disturbing. The last thing he wants is to cause his boyfriend physical harm.

Chris hears the tentative knock on the outer office door, and takes a deep breath before going out to open it.

“Hey,” says Zach holding the bag with the colloidal silver, and a thermal bag that contains his dinner. He wraps one arm about Chris’s neck, and plants a firm kiss on the Vampire’s mouth.

“Come in,” says Chris. He has to admit he’s anxious too. They don’t have much time, with the evening fast becoming night. He leads the way back to his locker, and holds up the door, gesturing for Zach to go in. Yes, it’s weird to invite your boyfriend into a storage locker, and he hears Zach’s gasp of surprise.

“Dude, this is seriously cool,” says Zach. He places the silver on the coffee table, but hands the bag of blood to Chris. Chris takes it to his newly acquired bar fridge, and places it inside. On top of the fridge is a bottle warmer, the same kind as the one Zach bought.

On one wall is a pin board with photos and maps and diagrams. Beneath it is a large wooden box that is overflowing with papers. Chris catches Zach’s curious gaze.

“The mine outside Vegas,” he says. “It’s been a labor of love.”

“You’ll be okay though, right?” Zach goes to the board and scans a few of the photos.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t want to think about it right now, that their time together is coming to an end and all too quickly for his liking. _Enjoy him while it lasts_ , he thinks. “Do you have time for a game?” asks Chris indicating the massive TV.

Zach turns away from the collage. “I’m actually thinking I’m just going to take the stuff—” His eyes settle on the haphazard pile of chain, and he stalls for a moment. “—and we’ll get this night over with,” he finishes slowly.

“It’s just a precaution, Zach,” says Chris moving to block Zach’s view. “I won’t use it unless I have to.”

“Okay.” Zach turns away and reaches for the bag with the silver. He pulls the bottle out, and untwists the cap. Chris had read the directions the previous night, a few drops under the tongue. He has no idea how much Zach plans to take, but the Were tilts the bottle to his mouth and takes two large swallows.

“Oh, God,” says Zach, his face screwing up. “It tastes vile.” Chris has less than a second to catch Zach, as the Were begins to fall.

“Zach? Oh, God—Zach?” Chris carefully lays him on the couch. Zach’s out cold, unresponsive, and beginning to shiver. Chris feels the gorge of panic rising in his chest. He’s unprepared, and has no idea if this is it, or if Zach will get worse as the night goes on. He finds a blanket, and drapes it over him, surprised the Were is actually beginning to sweat. Zach groans, his legs bending up, and his back curving into the fetal position, grunting and moaning. “Zach?” says Chris, kneeling by the Were’s head, smoothing back his damp hair. Chris’s eyes widen when he feels how hot Zach’s skin feels. “Jesus, you’re burning.” He places his hand against Zach’s forehead and the Were seems to press against him seeking the cool relief of Chris’s hand.

Chris doesn’t have any ice packs, but it occurs to him his chill might be enough to soothe Zach. Zach growls, baring his teeth and Chris sees the Were’s fangs emerge, but that’s the extent of it. He gently pulls back an eyelid and sees Zach’s eyes have also turned yellow, but he’s still very much in human form. His body isn’t changing, but the moon must be rising.

He pulls away the blanket and sets about getting Zach undressed. It’s cold in the locker, which Chris hopes will help, but he also figures the more skin-on-skin contact there is, the more effective he’ll be. Once they’re both naked, Chris carefully tucks himself in behind Zach, pressing his chest against the Were’s burning back, and pushes his thighs along Zach’s hamstrings. The Were’s ass is cradled against Chris’s pelvis, and he can feel the intense heat Zach’s generating. He slips one arm under Zach’s head, and drapes the other over Zach’s torso. Zach seems to push back into him.

Chris had already set up his TV, and picks up the remote, which he’d placed within reach before lying down. He flicks through his choices, picks a classic, and settles in for a night of movie watching.

Throughout the night Zach continues to shiver and sweat, his body occasionally jerking with a spasm. He groans and growls, and sometimes bites, his fangs raking the air but settling on nothing. Once he even whimpers.

Chris stays beside him, stroking his fevered skin, and sometimes kissing the back of his neck. He places his hand over Zach’s forehead, and feels the heat slowly beginning to recede. He’s halfway through his sixth movie when Zach begins to stir. Without being able to see Chris assumes the moon is sinking. He keeps still until the heat in Zach’s skin fades.

He’s not sure when Zach regains consciousness, but the Were turns over until he’s face to face with Chris. His eyes are closed, but when Chris kisses his lips, he can feel Zach respond.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever been through,” says Zach, his voice rasping. Surprisingly, he snuggles in closer to Chris. He tries to stretch a bit, and Chris leans back, moving his arms until Zach pulls them back into position. “Although, if I get to wake up like this, I might be able to cope.”

Chris chuckles, kissing Zach’s slightly damp forehead. “I didn’t know what else to do. You were burning up, and it seemed to help when I touched you.”

“It did, I could feel you lying against me. It was nice. The movies were a distraction too.”

“You heard those?”

“Yeah, it was like I was conscious but I couldn’t move or function. The pain is unbelievable, but the chill of you really helped. This is going to be a real bitch every month.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be there for you.”

“Until you have to go.”

Zach’s words thump into Chris’s chest like a hammer. He’ll only be able to care for Zach once more before he has to go to the mine. Again he questions whether or not they could make it work after he’s turned. The Were’s free arm goes around Chris, and a long leg slides between his. He can feel the Were lazily kissing his collarbone, his neck, and then his jaw.

Chris strokes his hair and Zach burrows his face into Chris’s neck. “How do you feel?” Chris asks.

“Like a train wreck,” mumbles Zach, but his lips continue their caressing. “I really wanna fuck you right now, but I don’t think I have the energy.”

Chris chuckles. “Shame, we haven’t christened my place yet.”

Zack suddenly lifts his head. “No we have not.” He tries to move but Chris can see the grimace on his face and stops him.

“Let me,” he says pulling himself up from the couch.

“It’s probably just an after effect of the silver,” says Zach, his eyes closed. “I don’t usually feel this drained after a regular full moon.”

“You probably should have considered that before you took it,” says Chris helping Zach lie more comfortably on the couch. It’s not long enough to accommodate his full length—his feet hang over one arm—but he seems to relax a little. Perhaps Zach isn’t as worried about subsequent full moons as Chris thought. Is the Were ready to let him go?

He grabs his unopened tube of lube and carefully straddles the Were, resting his weight across Zach’s thighs.

Zach lifts his head, “What are you doing?”

“Being gentle,” says Chris. Their cocks are close enough that he can take hold of both in his fist. He’s squeezed lube onto his fingers and slowly begins to stroke.

“Mm,” says Zach, lying back. “That’s nice.”

Chris can feel himself swell, and Zach isn’t far behind. He keeps squeezing, keeping his fist tight and bites his lip when Zach lets out a soft moan. Even when they’re fully hard Chris keeps the same slow pace, occasionally slicking a finger across the heads, which makes Zach shudder a little under him.

“Will this be an okay substitute?” Chris breathes. His balls are clenching.

“Mm, yes,” says Zach. His hips are writhing under Chris’s ass and he’s certain the Were wants him to go faster. He keeps the same torturously slow tempo, enjoying the play of sensation across Zach’s face. His mouth opens emitting the occasional groan, or just a silent breath of pleasure. He bites his lips, licks them and Chris sees the strain when Zach tilts his head, arching his back with a grunt.

Chris leans forward, keeping their cocks in his grip, and using one hand on the arm of the couch above Zach’s head to prop himself up. He places his mouth over Zach’s who immediately responds with a groan and hungry lips.

“God, I love what you’re doing,” says Zach cupping Chris’s face. “Just go faster.”

“No,” says Chris, his breathing heavy. “Slow, let’s just take it slow.”

Zach grunts, “You love to torture, don’t you?”

Chris thinks of their rooftop encounter. “I like to make you feel.”

“Hmm, fuck, I’m feeling, baby. I am seriously feeling.”

“Good,” says Chris and stops any further conversation with a kiss. He slips his tongue into Zach’s mouth and runs it across his teeth.

“Mm,” moans Zach keeping a firm hold of Chris’s cheeks, pulling him closer into the kiss as though begging him to move faster. But Chris keeps his fist true and opens to Zach’s bruising mouth. “Fuck Chris,” he breathes. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Zach has to let him go when his orgasm hits. Chris can feel the spasms rippling through the Were’s body. He comes with Zach’s cry and continues to stroke over their shooting dicks, mixing ejaculate with the lube as they each shudder and buck, their bodies wringing out the torrent of their climax.

“God, fuck,” Chris breathes.

“Oh fuck,” Zach murmurs reaching to caress Chris’s back.

Chris finally lets go, wiping his hand on his thigh before giving Zach another kiss, though the Were is panting. He straightens and stands a pang of reluctance when Zach’s hands remain hanging in the air after him, before they drop to his sides on the couch.

“Zach?” Chris grabs a towel and carefully begins to clean Zach’s stomach.

 “Mm?”

“We’re in real trouble aren’t we?”

The Were seems to think for a minute. Chris hadn’t made it clear what they were in trouble for, but it doesn’t seem to matter when Zach answers. “I think we’re beyond the point of no return now. Whatever lines we shouldn’t have crossed, I think denying my transformation, and spending the night with a Vampire was the last one.”

“I’d cross them all again if I had too.”

“Me too.” He dumps the towel and slips under Zach’s legs. The Were’s eyes are closed and his breathing has returned to normal.

“I think I’ll sleep like this today,” says Zach.

“You won’t soon enough,” says Chris. “It’s nearly time for me to sleep.”

Zach’s eyes open and focus on Chris. He moves to sit up, leaning on an elbow on the back of the couch. “You always need to sleep?”

“No, but I don’t function all that well if I don’t. We tend to weaken if we don’t get to sleep. Like humans, I guess.”

“Yes, like a human,” says Zach, reaching to stroke away a lock of Chris’s hair. “Then I’d better let you sleep. I need to get to bed myself.” And to emphasize the point he takes a big yawn. “You don’t yawn.”

“My sleep is a lot different to yours.”

“Would…” Zach hesitates. “Would you mind if I stayed until you fell asleep?”

It’s not a question Chris ever saw himself having to answer. He knows what happens when he sleeps; he can’t imagine anyone else would want to know.

“I guess,” he says. “When you hear my heart stop, that’s when I’m asleep.”

“Okay,” says Zach.

 

Zach hadn’t expected Chris to agree, so he’s a little apprehensive now that he has. He knows Vampires essentially ‘die’ when they sleep because their hearts do stop. It’s one of the few things that protect the Vampires from Weres during the day when they’re most vulnerable. The Weres can’t hear their heartbeats, so they’re safe to sleep until the following night.

 “Did you want me to come over tonight?” asks Chris.

“Saturday night, yeah, let’s go do something.”

“Okay, I’ll show you more of this grand city.”

He helps Chris into his box, and kisses him again before the Vampire lies down. He can’t describe the despondency he feels, as he slides the lid over him, and rests his hands on the lid.

“I love you, Chris,” he says. But he doesn’t get a reply, and it’s in that moment he can’t hear Chris’s heart. His own heart sinks, as he contemplates his situation. Standing in a storage locker with his boyfriend, his lover who just happens to be Vampire, is lying in a box. Inches away from his fingers that rest on the lid is a body, the corpse of the man he loves.

Barely comprehending what he's about to do, Zach lifts the lid, and carefully leans it against the box before he has a real look as to what’s inside.

He takes a long, shuddering breath because the sight is unnerving. Chris is lying perfectly still, surrounded by the velvet. Zach slowly, gently reaches out, and touches his shoulder. He’s as cold as he's always been, but there's something missing, and Zach realizes that as well as the stilled heartbeat, Chris isn't breathing. He presses his fingers to the Vampire's neck, changes position a few times but he can't find it. Chris has no pulse. He can feel the panic even though he has no cause to worry, but he’s never seen a dead body in such close proximity. He knows it’s still Chris, his Chris, and it’s because of that Zach leans over and presses his ear to the Vampire’s unmoving chest. Nothing.

Chris is dead.

A shiver runs the length of him. He’s still naked, standing in his boyfriend’s locker, staring at his cold, dead body. Can’t get much more fucked up that that! He reaches for the lid, his eyes still on Chris’s calm face and before he thinks anything more of it, he leans forward again, this time pressing his lips to Chris’s mouth. There’s no response, but he knew he wouldn’t get one. Chris feels so much colder than the kisses he gives when he’s awake. Closing his eyes, Zach refuses to shed tears. It’s not forever; this is temporary, like their Dominus/Imus status. And their relationship? Will it really be goodbye when the time comes for Chris to go to his mine? Zach breathes hard, smells the seaside he’s always associated with Chris and lingers a moment longer before he straightens.

“Oh, God, Chris,” he whispers and gently strokes the Vampire’s hair before he pulls the lid into position again, trying not to disturb the body that's lying inside, even though it’s crazy, since he knows Chris isn’t going to wake. For a moment Zach had wanted to shake him to try and wake him, and make sure he was still alive, still with him. Shuddering, Zach backs away knowing he has to leave, that the office staff will arrive soon. He dresses, even tidying up Chris’s clothes before he goes to the door. He takes one last look at the coffin, because that's exactly what it is, and hauls open the door.

He drives home, trying to focus on their bout of sex, but it’s clouded by the image of Chris’s body. Chris, though reanimated by whatever it is that makes a Vampire a Vampire, is technically dead. It's confronting, and Zach regrets opening the box.

He’s greeted by Noah, and is thankful to see something alive. He showers, reminding himself that it’s still Chris, and by the time he shuts off the water he’s looking forward to seeing him again in spite of his stupid curiosity.

Lying in bed, the chill of dread slowly recedes, and he remembers the noises he made and the look in his eyes and the way he kissed. He rolls over, hugging the duvet close, wishing it was Chris, and thinking that even though it was a shock, perhaps it’s something he could cope with. He needs the reassurance, though. He needs to see Chris alive again. But his mind is made up; he’s going to buy a box for Chris to sleep here.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Chris and Zach enjoy the rhythm of their life together, they are not prepared for a drastic change in beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of drugging without knowledge/consent, implied/accusations of non consensual sexual contact

Chris licks out the dregs of blood left in the bottom of the bowl, licking his lips noisily until he sees Zach’s stilled his knife and fork.

“Sorry,” he says, shamefaced when he carefully places the bowl back on the table.

Zach smiles. “Don’t be, I’m just pleased I can provide it, although you did say it tasted pretty awful.”

“It’s not so bad anymore,” says Chris. “Definitely at first, but I think I’m getting used to it.”

“I hate to think you have to demean yourself because of it.”

“It’s fine,” he says with a shrug. It’s not as good as fresh, but in some way it makes him feel better that he doesn’t have to bite for it. And the fact that it’s blood that would otherwise go into an incinerator makes him feel the teensiest bit useful. “No WOLPh tonight?”

“Nah, think we’ll give it a miss tonight. I wouldn’t mind finding somewhere to relax.”

Chris would argue the apartment is the perfect location to relax, but he just nods in affirmation. “As you wish.”

“Did _you_ want to go out?” asks Zach, his cutlery clattering on the plate after he takes the last bite and dumps them.

Though he’d be perfectly happy to stay, Chris realizes Zach’s only contact with the outside world for the last few weeks has been WOLPh. It would be nice to go do something together that didn’t involve Zach’s work. “I could take you out, there’s a pretty cool bar, I know that plays a good mix of music and isn’t generally overcrowded.”

“No kinky people?” Zach asks with a raised eyebrow and cheeky smile.

“You never know,” he says, smiling. “It’s not as intense as Bar Sinister. I mainly go to listen to the music. I’ll often take a book and they’re happy to just give me water, even though I don’t drink it. I’m pretty sure the barman has his suspicions, but I’m left well enough alone.”

“Yeah, we could go there if you like. Sounds calming.”

They do the dishes together and Zach insists Chris drive since he knows where he’s going. It’s small consolation for what he’s really missing, but he does love driving the great beast of a car. For the briefest of moments, and just in his own mind, he pretends it’s his.

Akbar is small, decorated with a lot of dark wood and autographed photos of celebrities. Chris tugs on Zach’s fingers when the Were stops to look at them. He’s always enjoyed coming here, though admittedly it’s been a while. It’s not as crowded as Bar Sinister gets, several couples are dancing to the upbeat music and though most of the tables are filled, his favorite is free. The tables are high and Chris lets go of Zach’s hand so they can perch on the tall stools.

“Did you want a drink?” Chris asks over the music. Though he can’t drink himself, he’s not expecting Zach to forego one.

“Yeah, in a minute. This is kind of cool,” he says. “Are you a dancer?”

“Sometimes, if I get in the mood.” He feels Zach’s hand on his thigh and the Were gives it a firm squeeze.

“Let me know when you are,” he says.

It’s been a while since he danced with a partner, but it’s not as though he would need lessons. The dancing he’s witnessed here before has often looked as though people just hooked themselves up to an electric current. All he really needs to do is feel the music.

When he feels Zach’s leg bouncing through the table he holds out his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Dance with me.”

Zach smiles broadly and grips his fingers hard, almost dragging him to the tiled floor. The music has slowed a little, an instrumental cover to a song Chris has always liked. Zach wraps his arms about him and he feels himself melting against the Were’s firm chest.

“Now this is dancing,” says Zach as he takes Chris’s hand and holds it up in the position of an old school waltz and moves them further into the foray. It doesn’t take long for those hands to smooth their way over Chris’s back and sides while they move against each other. A few of the other dancing couples smile at them in appreciation, two attractive men bumping and grinding against each other is cause for anyone to want to look.

Eyes locked on each other, they’ve only been dancing for a minute or two before their hunger demands to be fed and they’re reaching for each other. The kiss starts off relatively conservative until Chris opens and Zach responds by sliding his tongue inside the Vampire’s mouth. The simplest of moves is enough for Chris’s cock to respond.

“Zach,” Chris whispers and in spite of the music the Were reluctantly lets him go.

“Yeah?”

“We need to get out of here dude, I’m about to make this place X-rated,” he says.

“Me too,” says Zach. Chris wonders if the Were is upset to leave early, but the way Zach is dragging him back through the crowd only tells him Zach’s just as keen to get him alone.

They don’t bother trying to make it back to the car and the security of Zach’s apartment. A small darkened alley behind the bar is deserted and crammed with dumpsters and piled up junk. A shared look passes between them and in moments they’re behind one such pile, up against a wall where they’re hidden from any passers-by.

“Mm,” Chris sighs against Zach’s mouth. He’s hard up against the wall and Zach’s mouth is attempting to taste every crease of his lips and mouth. Tongues fight for supremacy, but hands are just as busy with buttons and flies until each of them emits a grunt when hands cup around genitals. Chris feels his hard length resting heavily in Zach’s hand. The Were is tugging him through his underwear in long, dragging strokes. He can’t seem to get enough of Zach’s mouth himself but dives into Zach’s underwear so he can delight in the sharp gasp Zach gives the moment Chris’s cooler hand grips his cock.

“Fu-uck,” Zach groans against his lips, biting at the bottom one and giving it a pull. “I’m gonna suck you dry,” he purrs.

The kiss is abandoned with frustrated moans, but Chris is soon distracted by Zach on his knees, tugging aggressively at Chris’s jeans and underwear to get them to his ankles. The moment his dick is free Zach’s tongue is licking long stripes of saliva over it. He cups Chris’s balls, squeezing and pressing until he swallows him whole.

“Jesus,” Chris hisses thinking there’s never been a more beautiful sight than Zach’s mouth stretched wide by his own meat. He strokes a hand through the Were’s hair, caressing his ear as he slides up and down Chris’s shaft. Zach shoves him in hard and Chris can feel the back of Zach’s throat working at his head, sucking him in so he can feel it through his balls. “Fuck, Zach,” he sighs.

The hand around his balls pushes further back, probing at his taint until he pushes it between Chris’s clenched cheeks. With a stuttered groan, Chris manages to part his knees further, enabling Zach to stroke over his hole in tight teasing circles. He clings to Zach’s head, trying not to buck hard into the Were’s mouth. Zach pulls his finger away, slides it through the saliva that’s dripping over Chris’s sac then back to his ass.

The wet fingertip swirls over the puckered opening until with a firm push Zach slides it inside. “Oh, oh fuck,” Chris moans. He sags against the wall, which opens him up further granting Zach room for another finger. This time Chris has no choice and he thrusts hard, pushing against those maddening fingers and almost choking Zach. But the Were hardly moves, a slight gagging until he’s back in control and swallowing Chris down just as deeply. He fucks his fingers into him and Chris is close to wailing, breathing hard though his nose in his effort to keep his voice down. “Zach, oh God, Zach, I’m coming. Oh Jesus, I’m coming.” He can feel himself clench around Zach’s fingers, his hands either side of the Were’s face as he shoves in twice, shooting down Zach’s throat with each wave of his orgasm.

Zach slides off, sucking and licking and making sure a single drop isn’t wasted. Then slowly he retracts his fingers. Chris reaches back to grab the wall because his legs are trembling and threatening to buckle.

“Oh my God,” Chris sighs and after another moment of recovery manages to look down at the Were, still on his knees.

“Turn around,” says Zach, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“What?” he asks, and then realizes that the Were will want a fuck. “Oh, yeah sure.” He bounces off the wall, steadies himself and shuffles around, his jeans still around his ankles, then leans against the bricks, his arms pillowing his forehead. But instead of cock, Chris feels Zach spread him then the light scrape of his stubble before his warm wet tongue begins tasting his ass. “Ohmigod,” Chris gasps and feels an almost painful twitch as his semi hard dick throbs. “Zach, seriously man, it’s your turn.”

“Shut up,” says Zach before spitting purposefully against Chris’s hole before he resumes his ministrations. He hums and Chris feels the reverberations right to the end of his cock. His legs turn to jelly with each flow of current Zach produces with his tongue. The Were spits again and pushes his tongue straight in.

“Oh fuck!” Chris yelps, panting as his cock reaches full hardness and he’s forced to stroke it in his effort to relieve the ache. “Zach, Jesus, dude.”

“Jack yourself,” says Zach. “Come for me again.”

“Mm, fuck yeah,” says Chris and begins a swift jerk while Zach continues to eat him out. Chris can hear himself moaning loudly, but he has little choice and doesn’t really care if he’s heard. Just as he’s about to lose it, Zach stands, thrusts two fingers inside and strokes his prostate before reaching around to grab at his dick. “Fu-u-uck!” Chris yells. Zach kisses at his neck, his fingers pulling out gently, but his other hand has collected Chris’s come.

Zach bites at his ear. “Bend over,” he murmurs and Chris takes a small step back, leaning against the wall.

“Please, Zach, please fuck me,” he mumbles. He feels Zach’s fingers penetrate him, gauging his readiness before he feels his own slick against his hole, warmed slightly from sitting in the Were’s hand. Zach uses his fingers again, begins with two but brings it up to three in quick succession. “Fuck me, Zach, fuck me, fuck me,” Chris chants. He’s almost relieved when he does feel Zach’s thick, probing cock push against him. His jeans restrict him from spreading his legs further, but he bends his knees a little, parting himself just enough for the Were to gain entrance. “Oh, oh yes!’ he sighs, happy to be once again filled with Zach’s dick.

Zach holds his hips a moment, enabling him to adjust. Chris is grateful Zach does so, but he’s just as thankful his lover has the ability to stuff him to capacity. Zach bucks a few times, lodging himself entirely before he slowly draws back, then reenters.

“Mm,” Chris moans. Zach’s hands don’t remain idle. Sliding under Chris’s shirt he feels the warm tips against his frigid flesh until they begin to tease at his nipples. Zach, fucking slow and deep, pinches and rubs and smoothes and caresses every inch of Chris’s flinching torso. With a firm thrust he pulls Chris up straight, encouraging him to lean back against him. Chris rests his head against Zach’s shoulder and they move in unison, a dance known only to them. Chris reaches back and grips a handful of Zach’s hair. Zach kisses at the base of his neck, big, open mouthed wet kisses that seem all the louder right against Chris’s ear.

“Kiss me,” Zach whispers. Chris manages to twist his head to the side, accepting Zach’s urgent kiss. His big warm hands travel up and down his chest and stomach, occasionally rubbing over his cock that, for a third time, is hardening. “With your fangs.”

“No,” says Chris, “I want you to remember.”

Chris’s words go unheard and Zach lets Chris’s mouth go to nibble at the Vampire’s ear. “I love us like this,” Zach murmurs “Together as one, as we should be.”

“I want you so much,” says Chris. “It’s going to tear me apart to leave you.”

“Shh,” says Zach. “Not now, not when we’re so perfect. Mm.”

“God Zach, what are we gonna do?”

“For now, we’re gonna fuck,” says Zach. Then his voice deepens and Chris can hear the rumble before Zach speaks again. “Just let me fuck you,” he growls.

Chris groans, sagging a little when the violent shudder ripples through him. Zach holds him firmly around the middle, supporting him when the wash of fear, like an icy flush engulfs him with terror, causing him to whimper. Zach moans in his ear, then lets Chris go, pushing him to the wall. He grips Chris’s hips and rams into him again and again.

“Oh fuck yes, yes, yes,” Chris repeats with each thrust. Zach begins to growl again, it gets louder and louder until with an almost roar Chris feels his cock throbbing wildly inside him. Zach shudders, clutching him as he bucks in the final throes of his climax. He leans forward, carefully leaning against Chris and in spite of his liquid legs, the Vampire holds them both up.

After a moment Zach straightens and gently withdraws. Chris hisses with a wince, his hole raw from Zach’s ravaging. “Are you okay, dude?” Zach asks smoothing over Chris’s ass cheeks. He sounds worried, but Chris slowly stands and turns to him, gripping the Were’s fingers for a second.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, it won’t take a minute.”

They pull up jeans and step out of the alley. There’s no one about and Chris is hopeful the music from Akbar masked the volume of their coupling.

 

Zach wants to kill Jacob and it’s not because he’s a power-hungry little shit who seems to think he’s the gatekeeper to God. Leonard has been back for two days and Jacob, the fucking asshole, didn’t even tell him! He found out from Zoë in passing.

The conversation had started civilly: Zach asked Jacob why Leonard never responded to any of his calls or messages.

“Your messages to me were just repetitions of the same line. In spite of my asking as to what it was referring, you never said anything more than it being of a personal nature. Had you said the company was facing some kind of financial crisis I would have put it through. Personal urgency does not equate importance.”

Zach takes a long shaky breath and feels a burning lump frying the back of his throat. “I hardly think it’s your business why I’m calling. The matter was urgent and should have been put through!” He can feel the slim grip he has on his temper slipping.

“Mr Nimoy was conducting extremely delicate negotiations with our suppliers and partners in China. He was not in any position to take calls unless they were of dire consequence to the company.”

Jacob’s tone is cutting, making Zach incensed. For someone to have the gall in assuming his call is unimportant, simply because he didn’t specify the subject matter!

 “I need to see him. Now!” Zach stifles his fury as best he can behind firmly gritted teeth.

“Mr Nimoy is not available at this time,” says Jacob. He doesn’t even look ruffled by the tension between them.

“Then when can I see him?” Zach desperately wants a glass of water and maybe a couple of Tylenol. He tries to settle his breathing; clearly he’s not going to win this battle. All he can do is hope to see Leonard as soon as possible.

Jacob tends to his laptop, “He has an opening two weeks from now. Shall I book it?”

“Two weeks?” Zach barks. “That’s unacceptable, this is an extremely urgent matter and I have to see him now.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr Nimoy—”

And that’s when Leonard steps out of his office.

“Ah, Zach,” he says when he sees Zach standing in front of Jacob’s desk. “I needed to speak with you; do you have a moment now?”

“Yes, of course,” says Zach giving Jacob a surreptitious glare, but the EA is suddenly busy with a bunch of files. “I hoped to speak with you, too.”

Leonard steps to the side to admit Zach into the office. He says something to Jacob about not being disturbed and Zach smiles inwardly that he’s managed to undermine the annoying shit. It also helps him to calm down a little after the near-aneurysm. Leonard closes the door and gestures to a seat. “Coffee? Tea? Water?” he asks.

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” says Zach refusing Leonard’s offer. “I need to get this out or my mind will short circuit.”

“I’m all ears,” says Leonard sitting behind his desk.

Zach sighs, trying to gather his thoughts into some kind of order. “Okay, several weeks ago I was attacked by a pair of Vampires. Chris saved my life. Then maybe a week or so after that I was in the park with my dog when I was attacked by three Vampires, but they more or less just beat the shit out of me. Again, Chris was there to save me. Then that night of the meeting we had with China, the late one where we had to bring our Imus, we were attacked again by five more Vampires, but this time they’d used a human as bait.

“At first I thought it was bad luck, that I was in a city where there were many more Vampire, but it all seemed a little too coincidental I started to think I was being set up. I think someone was trying to have me killed.”

Leonard sits with his elbows on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled and his face passive. At first Zach wonders if the old guy has perhaps nodded off, but he blinks a few times before he speaks.

“Why didn’t you come to me with this earlier, Zach?”

“I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary at first,” says Zach. “I knew LA had a bigger Vampire population than Pittsburgh so I figured, well, this is part of it. I’m just thankful I had Chris, otherwise, who knows?”

Leonard nods. “Needless to say, you should have told me sooner. Did the human survive?”

“Oh,” says Zach at first unsure as to who Leonard is talking about, and then remembers the car park attack. “Oh yes, we managed to get him to a hospital.”

Leonard nods, “Good, well done.” But there’s no real sentiment in his words. “I’d hate to think you felt you had no support here, that your fears would go unheard. I’m just relieved you’re safe, and please be sure to take your Imus _everywhere_.” He takes a long breath. “Having said that, what’s of greater concern is your belief that someone is trying to kill you.”

“I believe that ever since you decided to hand the company over to me, Peter views me as a threat.”

“I see,” says Leonard clearly mulling over Zach’s theory. “You believe a human managed to coerced Vampires into taking the life of a Were?”

The way in which Leonard says it, makes Zach feel a little foolish. “Yes sir.”

“Weres are stronger than humans, are we not? We live well beyond the life expectancy of any human thanks to our ingestion of Vampire blood. I’m a hundred and seventy four years old Zach. I may appear an elderly man, but I can guarantee you, I plan to go on well beyond my second century, by which time, I would say, it will be a considerable time _after_ Peter’s death.”

Zach had no idea the Were was that old. He knew some of the older ones were really old, but close to two hundred? And because of Vampire blood? It makes sense that they’re living so long if they’re eating Vampire every full moon, and in the case of those with Imus. The surprises just keep coming and he wonders if there’ll ever be a time when he won’t feel like a complete naïf. “But how can you explain the attacks? At one point Rachel was there and then she wasn’t. Does Peter know you think he’ll be dead before then?”

“Zach,” says Leonard in a stern voice. “Weres have been the target of Vampires ever since it was discovered we held a power over them every full moon. Attacking us is a little less common these days, but it’s not unusual. Besides, I have known Peter for several years now; he’s approaching seventy, an age at which most humans have retired. Thanks to Rachel he’ll live longer than a century, but humans are not designed to carry on for great lengths of time. He’s well aware of what he means to this company and when the time comes he will let it go to live out his days knowing he made as good a contribution to our work as any other Were might have done. I trust him implicitly. He’s never done anything to make me think otherwise. If what you’re saying were true, that the man I depend on so greatly is a cold-blooded killer, then what kind of pathetic old fool would that make me?”

Zach is stunned. Leonard doesn’t believe him. He sits for a moment, his mind reeling through all the events that have happened, and the conversations he had with Chris. He was convinced it was Peter, it had to be! Nothing else made any sense and the idea that they were simply coincidental makes him feel even more uneasy. “But sir—”

“I won’t hear another word against him, Zach. You’ve accused a highly-respected and accomplished colleague who has been with this company almost as long as you’ve been alive. You’re lucky you’ve only divulged this to me. Peter would be well within his rights to lodge a complaint. You’re not the only one who’s faced numerous attacks. We’ve uncovered several plotted assassination attempts and dealt with the perpetrators. You have your Imus, so do as you’ve been told, and keep him with you at all times!”

“Yes sir,” says Zach his stomach churning. With each statement, Leonard lands a crushing blow. Zach’s rock and hard place just became even more constrictive. Without Chris he has little doubt the attacks will resume. For a brief moment he wonders if there’s any chance he can convince the Vampire to stay.

“Now, what’s this business about you failing to complete the Imus training? I was told you refused to shoot an arrow at a target.” The old Were leans forward in his chair, his hands in fists as they lean on the leather surface.

Zach swallows hard. The grounding knowledge that he’d been so sure would hold him has turned to nothing more than dust. He’s confused and even fearful which makes him say the first thing that comes to mind. “It had a photo of—”

“It’s just a goddamn photo!” Leonard bellows and points an angry finger at him. “ _You_ are an executive of this company, and as hard as it is to believe right now, a role model for those that look to us for inspiration and guidance. It is _totally_ unacceptable that you failed this course!” Leonard stands and continues to rant, pacing behind the desk. “I don’t care if it was a photo of your mother, God bless her, but to refuse to shoot a slab of plastic, simply because you don’t _feel_ like it, is completely deplorable. You will redo the course and you _will_ shoot that photo if I have to make you pull the goddamn trigger myself!”

“Yes, sir.” Never in his life has he seen Leonard so angry. Sad, upset and annoyed? Yes. But not so maddened that he’s shouted and fumed.

“And then I’m told that you never showed for the full moon culling! What possible explanation do you have for missing our most important night?”

Zach feels the blood drain from his face to pool at his ankles. He didn’t think anyone would notice, who takes account anyway? The one prior to the night he drank the silver had seemed more like organized chaos. And he certainly hadn’t noticed anyone taking account as to who was or wasn’t there.

Then he remembers someone who had been there that wasn’t going to turn. Oh God, had Peter actually sold him out? He considers lying, of saying he morphed at home and went out. But they never change alone. It’s not unusual to separate to hunt, but they never begin a cull. It’s part of the deep seeded instinct, the ancient nature of forming a pack. Even in Pittsburgh, Zach had Joe.

“I didn’t go,” he says almost as a whisper. But he knows by the silence that follows the old Were has heard.

“What did you do Zach?” he says, his voice low and rasping, and terrifying.

“I took silver.”

He hears Leonard’s next breath falter and can almost feel the rage emanating from him. If Leonard were a volcano, Zach’s certain he would be about to erupt.

But Leonard sits calmly, those eyes, though timeworn are just as disturbingly penetrating and full of vehemence if Zach were looking into a black hole.

“Get the hell out of my office, Zach,” he says in the same deadly murmur. “I’ve _never_ been so disappointed in you.”

Zach almost wishes Leonard had started shouting again, anything to show him how the Were was dealing with the betrayal of his kind. Shamefully, Zach feels hot tears searing the back of his eyes. He blinks several times to maintain them, refusing to look at Jacob when he leaves, but he can feel his face is hot. He has little doubt the EA heard every word. Awful memories of his angry father surface, and it’s all he can do to get to his office before the choking sob burning in the back of his throat cuts off his air supply.

 

Chris knows something happened while they were at WOLPh. Zach has barely spoken; just a few monosyllabic words to answer any questions or a non-committal shrug.

When they get inside the apartment Zach goes straight to the shower. Chris gives it a minute but in spite of Zach’s efforts, Chris can still hear the small cry of anguish over the running water. He doesn’t bother knocking but pushes open the door and stands in the doorway. The steam has already clouded the small room, misting up the glass of the cubicle and mirror. The white tiles are slicked and Chris feels a pang of sympathy when he sees his boyfriend’s toiletries standing like sentries on the vanity. His man is hurting and he doesn’t know why.

“Zach?”

“Yeah,” comes the croaky reply followed by a long sniff.

“Hey, dude, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute,” Chris hears his voice crack and decides it’s probably better if he let the Were get it all out, but he doesn’t need to think he’s alone. Chris strips down, opens the shower to Zach’s back, steps in, and wraps his arms about him, leaning his head against Zach’s neck.

“Wanna talk about it?”

But Chris feels him shudder as he tries to stifle a sob. He turns him then and sees the red, tear stained eyes and the dejected look they give him. He can’t see tears because of the streaming water, but he knows they’ve been shed. Zach’s lashes stick wetly together and his hair is plastered to his head. He looks totally adorable, like an abandoned puppy.

“Aw, dude, what happened?”

“I told Leonard about Peter,” says Zach.

“Shit,” says Chris, and sighs. It obviously hasn’t gone well. “I take it he didn’t believe you?”

“He basically said that if everything I was accusing Peter of were true then it would make him out to be a complete idiot. He pointed out I was a Werewolf and Vampire attacks, like shit, happen. Then he chewed me out for failing that stupid Imus course and the fact that I missed the full moon.”

“Oh, Zach,” says Chris and hugs the soaked Were to him. The water is beautifully warm and Zach’s water slicked skin adds to the heat. Chris strokes his back for a moment. “I’m so sorry man.”

“What am I gonna do?”

Chris is pretty sure Zach has more of a problem with his failed attempt at accusing Peter than his failed attempt at completing some course, and surely a missed full moon isn’t all _that_ bad. Though he’s not privy to WOLPh policy, a wrongful accusation can hold serious consequences. “Were you fired?”

“No.”

Well, that’s a relief, but the worry on Zach’s face speaks volumes. He’s made his concerns known to Leonard, so now Leonard thinks Zach has an issue with Peter. It could all turn very ugly. “Was Leonard going to tell Peter?”

“I don’t think so. He won’t want Peter to make a complaint against me.”

“Okay, well that at least is something,” says Chris trying to figure out how to make it better, but at the same time knowing he’s completely powerless.

“What am I gonna do, Chris?” asks Zach, his voice soft and full of despair. “What if he’s planning more attacks?”

Chris hates the idea of leaving Zach vulnerable, but there’s little else he can do. He’s not cut out to be an Imus, no Vampire is, but with his change imminent it’s all the more reason to get himself away from all the humans that occupy the city.

“For now just keep your head down, do your work and don’t give anyone cause to think you’re there to create upheaval. I will come with you any time you go at night, but I think it goes without saying that you’ll be safer during the day.”

Zach nods. “I’ll have to once you’re, when you, um…”

“Don’t mention plans to go out,” says Chris, interrupting the chance for the thoughts to be voiced. ”And I know it’ll hurt, but don’t go out at night, not without an Imus, or perhaps with Zoe’s Imus, he seems okay. Don’t trust Peter and do not trust Rachel.”

“And Leonard?”

“I think he’s blinded by loyalty and service. We may not have solid proof, but everything seems to point in Peter’s direction. Avoid any and all confrontations.”

“Okay.”

He holds Zach for a moment and feels his breathing slow to an even rhythm. He pulls away to seek out the Were’s mouth, and though Zach snuffles a little as they kiss, he seems to welcome it. Chris pushes further, slipping his tongue between Zach’s teeth and licking along the roof before he teases Zach’s tongue. Zach pulls him closer and Chris feels the tension melt. He doesn’t know what Zach wants to do, doesn’t know what he _can_ do, but he knows his plans to leave are quickly being thwarted. Once he turns Rakdanava, could he come back to Zach? Is he prepared to play Imus for as long as they stay together?

Zach clutches at Chris’s cock first, making him grunt at the sudden touch to his swelling length and tingling nuts. It blurs his thoughts and he’s suddenly focusing on the mounting sensations. He reciprocates, immediately squeezing which forces a low moan from the Were’s throat.

“Here or bed?” says Zach, kissing along his jaw.

“We haven’t christened the shower yet,” says Chris. “Got lube in here?”

“Uh huh,” says Zach nosing into Chris’s ear before following with his tongue. “You only ever make that mistake once.”

Chris pulls back suddenly, to Zach’s confusion, but then turns and shoves his ass against the Were’s pelvis. “Better fuck me, then,” he says.

“Oh, really?” says Zach, slapping a cheek before squeezing. “Mm, I’ll never get sick of this ass.” Chris rubs it against Zach’s thick cock, delighting in the noises and faces Zach’s making when he looks over his shoulder.

“Come on, Zach, my begging will be embarrassing for the both of us.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.”

Chris smiles, “Please big boy, fuck my pretty ass, please, come on, please stick it in me. I want that gorgeous great cock fucking me into next week.”

Zach, laughing, grabs the lube and squeezes some onto his hand. “You’re right, that was embarrassing.”

Thankful he’s managed to get a smile from the Were, Chris hisses at the cool lube in spite of the warm shower as Zach applies it to his hole. A long, graceful arm wraps about Chris’s chest and soft lips and gentle teeth begin nipping tenderly along Chris’s shoulder while exploratory fingers toy with his ass.

“Oh Jesus, Zach,” says Chris spreading his legs. He lifts one foot resting it against the wall at about knee height. It gives Zach unhindered access and the Were uses it to his advantage. Chris cries out when Zach pushes two fingers in to the hilt and reaches his prostate. He does it again and again and Chris isn’t sure the leg that’s holding all his weight will manage to keep him standing. His other leg, the one perched on the wall, is shaking with pulse after pulse of delicious sensation that’s rippling down both legs. His forehead is pressed against the glass, his hands gripping the top edge as his lover ruthlessly pleasures him. His dick feels so hard, pressing against the glass as it is, but he’s too afraid to look, worried he’ll come too soon if he does.

“Ready for me?” asks Zach.

“Yes,” says Chris only now realizing his mouth is dry. “Yes, God yes.” His groan seems loud in the cubicle when Zach pushes into him and he reaches back, clutching at Zach’s ass to keep the Were lodged inside. Zach hooks his arm under Chris’s knee and hoists it higher, but no so much that Chris will lose his footing. Using it as leverage Zach proceeds to fuck. “Oh, oh my fuck,” Chris garbles, clinging to the glass and pushing back.

“Mmph,” Zach grunts. “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

With the water sluicing over them and Zach buried inside him Chris feels a deep contentment, which he hopes is the same for Zach. He’s worried about the fact that Leonard refused to believe his story, and even more so that the threat of Peter still hangs over them.

Zach squirts shampoo onto his hand and takes up Chris’s cock. It quickly foams into a lubricating lather, sending Chris’s thought processes into chaos each time Zach’s fingers swipe over the head.

“Oh shit, shit Zach, gmm!” Chris grunts. Zach leans forward, his mouth at Chris’s ear. Chris knows what’s coming and begins panting before the Were’s growl reaches his mouth. He whimpers, the noise stuck in his throat as his body shivers.

“You like my growl,” Zach murmurs.

“Yes.”

“It seems to frighten you, though.”

“Yes, but it’s a good fear, please, I just,” he can’t speak; he can only feel the terror slipping away, and his feeling of vulnerability along with it. He doesn’t think Zach will understand and hopes the Were doesn’t ask.

He has a reprieve because Zach seems close and the hand wrapped around his own cock is squeezing harder, forcing any cohesive thought from his mind. Zach’s rhythm increases, his hand following the same tempo. Chris is gasping, his body quaking with his mounting climax as Zach pushes against his prostate and strokes over his dick.

“I’m coming, Chris, oh God,” Zach grunts and the moment he feels Zach’s cock throbbing inside him Chris is shooting his load over the glass with a loud cry.

He lets Zach slip out before he sets his foot back down on the shower floor, both his legs are trembling. He slowly turns to face the Were and sees Zach panting, droplets of water flying from his lips as he regains his breath.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” says Zach with a nod. Chris knows it’s small consolation with the true extent of what they’re facing, but for now, though he’s pretty sure Zach still feels helpless, he hopes the Were found some semblance of solace.

Half an hour later, when they’re lying on Zach’s bed with only a towel about their waists, Chris senses Zach start to feel a little more like himself when his simple caressing strokes evolve into another session of serious ass-fucking. Zach’s leaning over Chris, his elbows hooked behind each of Chris’s knees and pummeling into him with noisy abandon. Chris clutches at Zach’s ass, begs for him to go harder, faster, his breath getting forced from his lungs with each punishing thrust.

“Fangs,” huffs Zach. Chris has been unable to break the intense gaze they’ve been sharing. He obliges, parting his lips so the Were can see and is treated to a lovely flush of pleasure at the groan their presence has enforced. Zach releases Chris’s legs capturing his mouth the instant he has easier access.

“No,” says Chris, wrenching away. “Don’t kiss me like this.” He immediately retracts them.

Zach’s rhythm slows, the vigorous fuck immediately switching to a slower, tentative coupling. “Why not?” says Zach, looking concerned. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of them. They’re a part of you and I love every part.”

“Really?” asks Chris, surprised. His reaction had been reflexive of the fact that he hadn’t wanted his saliva to affect Zach’s memory, the reason he stops allowing the Were to kiss him when his fangs are out. He hadn’t realized Zach might have some idea as to the shame he feels whenever he has to use them.

“Really,” says Zach nuzzling into Chris’s neck.

After coming and recovering, Chris holds Zach close as the Were drifts into sleep. He’s amazed at how much Zach has grown to accept him, accept the fact that he is what he is and doesn’t seem to give a damn anymore about their differences.

 

Zach heads into WOLPh just before lunch on Christmas Eve. He needs blood for Chris and wants to get through a few more emails before the company settles in for the holiday break. As it is, the building is relatively quiet, but when he reaches the lift, he’s joined by Karl. He’s had little to do with Karl’s department; all he knows is that Karl deals with the actual pharmaceutical side of things, just like Zach takes care of the finance.

“Hey, Merry Christmas!” he says, clapping Zach on the back. Karl has an accent that’s similar to Zoë’s Imus, but he’s been tricked before when guessing an incorrect tone, and suffered the punishing glare afterwards.

“Yeah, you too,” says Zach.

“Getting a bit of work in before you call it a day?”

“Yeah, just a few last minute things that I’d rather didn’t fester over the break.”

“I know the feeling mate, we’ve had some results back from the facility at Joshua Tree and I’d just like to get a glimpse rather than make my time off hell wondering about it.”

They exit at the same floor, still chatting as they head for their respective offices.

“Will we get an update next meeting?” Zach asks. Most of Karl’s work tends to go straight over his head, but there’s no harm in polite interest.

“You better believe it,” says Karl. “You know how a Vampire’s saliva turns into this mind-altering drug when their fangs are out? Well, what we’ve found is that one particularly powerful compound may just be a new way to treat dementia.”

“Wow,” says Zach. He doesn’t miss the fact that for Karl to know all this, then WOLPh must be doing more with Vampires than simply keeping them in plastic coffins. It’s unsettling, and he suddenly wants to get on with his work so he can get home again. He gives Karl a wave when they separate and once his laptop is booted starts skimming through his emails.

Karl’s words repeat over and over in his head, and he knows something’s wrong, but he can’t quite pin it down. When it does eventually hit, the pen he’d been chewing drops to the desk.

Suddenly frantic, Zach races from his office and bursts into Karl’s. The other Were’s behind his desk, fingers frozen over his laptop keyboard as he looks to Zach in complete bewilderment.

“I’m sorry,” says Zach, puffing. “What was that thing you said about their saliva?”

“Oh,” says Karl, pushing his laptop back a little. ‘Well, when a Vampire has their fangs protruding, their saliva contains a narcotic that if ingested makes human memories go haywire. Pieces go missing, some of it gets mixed up, but what we’ve found is—”

Zach’s stomach plummets. His mouth dries and his heart pounds in a hard and heavy thump against his ribs. He reaches out to steady himself against the doorframe. “What does it do to Werewolves?” he asks.

“As far as we know, it has the same effect as it has in humans, but there’s still a lot of testing to be done. Suffice it to say you should avoid getting bitten, particularly a prolonged bite as that’s what seems to cause the drugging,” Karl explains with a chuckle. “Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good, did you want to sit down?”

Zach doesn’t register that Karl helps him back into his office chair. “You said drugging,” he says, just as Karl’s about to fetch a glass of water.

“Yeah, the narcotic in their saliva is more or less a drug. A powerful one, too. As I said, it has great potential, but again, there’s still loads of testing before we even consider getting it to market.”

Zach slumps back in his chair. He doesn’t see Karl leave, since he’s too busy searching his mind for the memories of the Vampire attacks. The twins that bit him had probably affected his memory of that night. The one in the car park hadn’t had much of a chance, since Chris had attacked soon after. But none of the Vampires had bitten him in the park when he’d been abandoned by Rachel. Sure, he’d been beaten into oblivion, but no one had bitten him. Why then were his memories of that night just as scrambled? Had the beating affected him that badly? He doesn’t want to consider the alternative, because that would see his stomach fail him.

He sits for a very long time until he senses the light outside getting darker. His stomach is in knots, his palms won’t stop sweating and he’s praying, really praying that everything he’s imagining isn’t real and that there will be a perfectly reasonable explanation once he asks Chris about it.

It’s not until he’s in his apartment elevator that he remembers he’s forgotten Chris’s blood. Too caught up in his own concerns to worry about the needs of a Vampire; a Vampire that could very well have drugged him without his knowledge. Without his consent. Bile rakes at the back of Zach’s throat and he gets himself to his sofa so he can steady his breathing and take a moment.

The apartment no longer has its usual white theme. Tinsel and decorations have exploded throughout with the crowning glory of a magnificent tree covered in dazzling color and sparkling lights. Zach had been extremely pleased with the morning’s efforts, but all he wants now is to tear it down and stuff it in the closet and forget. They’d decided to celebrate Christmas tonight since it technically starts at midnight. He thinks of calling Chris, asking him to not bother, but he needs to know he’s got it wrong and nothing untoward happened. He needs to hear it’s all a complete misunderstanding, and why are you so worked up and come on and fuck me already.

His hands are shaking when he hears the elevator and though he knows it’s coming he jumps at the knock on the door. He manages to get to his feet. He hasn’t changed since getting back, hasn’t eaten, hasn’t even taken a piss. He opens the door to Chris’s smiling face, which is quickly replaced by confusion and concern.

“Hey,” he says, stepping forward and kissing the corner of Zach’s mouth. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Zach says stiffly, his dry mouth making it hard to form words.

“What’s up, work got you beat?” asks the Vampire as he strides towards the tree. “Dude, you’ve managed to squeeze Santa’s living room in here.” Zach watches him place an envelope on a branch next to the gift he’d purchased weeks ago.

Best get it over with, then he can apologize for the missing blood. It had been more of a token anyway. He’s pretty sure Chris doesn’t need to feed yet, but they can worry about it once he’s got this leaden weight off his chest.

“Can I ask you something?” asks Zach, lowering himself onto the sofa again. It’s still warm from where he’s been sitting most of the evening.

“Of course,” says Chris. His eyes are sparkling, he truly looks happy. In spite of the obstacles they’ve yet to overcome, Chris just seems happy in the moment. The Vampire comes and sits next to him, a finger already tracing a line along Zach’s thigh.

“I, um, found something out today,” Zach begins, his dry mouth making his voice raspier than he’d like. “I guess in my naivety I hadn’t realized, but I need to know otherwise it’s gonna drive me crazy.”

“Dude, what is it?” says Chris.

“When I was attacked, the first time, I had trouble remembering part of it. Sure I remember the horror of their teeth and that I was taken into the wilderness somewhere, but there’s a lot of gaps.”

“Yeah,” says Chris and the happy tone flattens significantly.

“I vaguely recall the attack in the car park, but perhaps I was too worried about the human to really remember much of that.”

“Sure,” says Chris.

“What’s got me confused is that in both those attacks, I was bitten. When I was attacked in the park with Noah, I was only beaten and still my memories of that night are as scrambled as the first one.”

“You took a fair beating,” says Chris.

Zach ignores the comment. “Please tell me you didn’t bite me to alter my memory of that night.”

“I didn’t bite you,” says Chris. But then he looks away and Zach feels his heart sink. “I kissed you instead.”

“You kissed me?”

“When my fangs are out, my saliva becomes -”

“Yes, yes, I know all that. It becomes a narcotic. So why the fuck did you kiss me?” He can hear the surge of anger in his voice. What he’d so desperately wanted to be wrong was fast becoming truth.

“Zach,” says Chris. “You were in a lot of pain, you were a mess and the last thing I wanted was for you to be traumatized.”

“So you slipped me a drug without my knowing?”

“It’s not like that. Hey, if you were in a car accident, do you think the hospital waits around for you to wake up before they start pumping you full of morphine? I healed you too, remember?”

“That’s not the same. I wasn’t in a hospital.”

“No, you were a bloodied mess smeared across the park and you would have _died_ if I hadn’t been there.” Chris’s voice is rising defensively.

“You’re my boyfriend, not a doctor, and you took it upon yourself to feed me a drug without my consent! Did you even know how it would affect me as a Werewolf?”

Chris hesitates and Zach’s realizes he’s the first Werewolf Chris has ever used this ability on. “It’s worked perfectly on humans often enough; what’s the difference?”

Zach’s breath catches. “The difference?” he croaks. “The difference is you _drugged_ me without me knowing. You roofied me!”

“Roofied? The fuck dude? I have never taken advantage of you. Jesus Christ, I saved your _life_ and you’re accusing me of—of—”

“Because you doped me up without knowing what effect the drug would have on me and now you’re trying to justify it by comparing yourself to a fucking doctor!” Zach shouts.

“No, _you_ _’_ _re_ comparing me to a doctor!” says Chris. “I can’t believe -- I saved your fucking life, would you prefer I hadn’t even bothered? Jesus, calm down, you’re fine, it’s fine. If it’s harmless to humans it’s hardly going to, I don’t know, cause cancer or whatever.”

“I don’t believe it,” says Zach wrenching himself out of the sofa and stalking over to the kitchen. It feels like a sanctuary. “How can you not understand how _wrong_ you are here?” He doesn’t realize Chris has followed him until the Vampire’s cool hand rests on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Chris says calmly.

Zach jerks his arm, knocking Chris’s hand off and wheeling on him.

“How do you know that? How can you possibly _know_ that? I have never felt so violated. What gives you the right to make those sorts of decisions about me?”

“Hey!” barks Chris. “You make decisions that affect us both _all_ the time!”

“Bullshit,” says Zach crossing his arms. “Name one.”

Chris holds up a finger. “You agreed to go out to Cerberus without asking if I wanted to go--”

“Seriously?” says Zach, rolling his eyes. “I thought we were over that and had moved on.”

“And then,” says Chris ignoring him and adding a second finger. “You decided to take silver without even telling me!”

“I took the goddamn silver because I didn’t want to go and kill Vampires! _You_ gave me a mind altering drug like some evil asshole creep in a night club. What gives you the right to just _do_ that to people?”

“I did it to help you, so you wouldn’t be frightened of me,” says Chris sounding flustered. “I wasn’t drugging you because I wanted to manipulate your memories; I hoped that when you recovered you wouldn’t see me as the threat.”

“But you _are_ the threat,” says Zach, still shaken. ”You always have been. Was it just that one time? Or have you been at it for a while now?”

“What? No!” says Chris, clearly startled. “You think I just go around kissing you like that whenever? That’s insane.”

“But you do bite people. What about those people at the bar, did you warp their minds with your poison?”

“Zach, the fuck are you saying dude? They were people I made an arrangement with. How else was I supposed to feed?”

“ _We_ managed to find a way,” says Zach without thinking.

“Well, fuck me,” says Chris, stunned. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? You’re allowed the top jobs and the fancy cars while us Vampire scum have to skulk about in the sewer and prey on the homeless. Is that what you think I did Zach? You think I couldn’t possibly have led a worthy life before I was so graciously saved by you, my lord and master?”

“You got off lightly,” says Zach. He’s done a hell of a lot for the Vampire, dammit! How dare he try to get away with something so monstrous! “I _gave_ you privilege, a purpose and blood you never had to work for. While your brethren wallow in the sewers, _you_ are one of the lucky ones. Don’t you think I deserve a little credit for giving you a better existence?” The look of horror on Chris’s face suggests Zach couldn’t possibly take anything more from him. “One call and I could have you put away in a plastic box, forever!”

When he speaks, Chris’s voice comes out as a harsh monotone. “I have lived through war and tyranny and hardship and pain. But never in my entire five hundred years have I _ever_ lowered myself to being someone’s ass wiper until I met you,” says Chris, his voice rising angrily. “I have enough trouble justifying who I am. I’m sorry you feel my actions were in some way menacing, but I did it because I knew you would be reliving the nightmare of the attack for _weeks_ afterwards. You are nothing more than common slave traders and you are using people, yes _people_ , to do your dirty experiments on. I saved you months of therapy, man. You should be _thanking_ me!”

“Get out,” says Zach. It’s all his voice will let him say. He’s too angry and hurt and confused why Chris can’t understand the injustice of what he’s done.

“Zach,” says Chris, sounding calmer. “Believe me; it was for your own good.”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” says Zach, pointing at the door, his finger shaking.

Chris backs up a few steps, his arms outstretched in pleading. “Don’t, dude. I know you don’t mean it.”

Zach matches his steps, glaring at the creature that’s trying to wheedle his way out of a complete breach of trust. “Get out of my house this instant you fucking _corpse_! I want you _gone_.” Zach opens his mouth, bares his teeth and emits a loud growl.

Chris visibly stiffens and the look of pain-filled despair almost makes Zach regret doing it. It had been something Chris enjoyed—feared, but enjoyed. Zach feels a nasty sense of satisfaction at taking something so meaningful away from him.

Without another word Chris nods his head while biting his lip, then heads out the door. It’s not until it clunks back closed that Zach releases the breath he’s been holding. The next instant all the fight drains out of him and he collapses to his knees and throws up bile from his already-empty stomach.

 

With his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the light drizzle dampening the city, Chris walks at a regular human pace in the direction of home. The fucking bastard _asshole!_ Is that what he really thought? And then to say it, to call him the one word that had become so synonymous with his kind; a word that described them as nothing more than dead, rotting meat. _I_ _’_ _m_ un _dead!_ Chris wants to scream but kicks an empty soda can instead, sending it whizzing past a couple of startled passersby. He doesn’t even look at them, just keeps walking.

So that must be it then, they’re done, over. He feels a small sense of relief that he can once again return to his normal life. Perhaps even go back to Bar Sinister. Why had Zach been so unreasonable? Chris would _never_ do anything that would harm him. He did it to help. But the Were certainly hadn’t held back with his true feelings. He honestly believed that he’d been doing Chris a favor when he made him become Imus, and then to say so many hurtful things. Did he really feel that way? Did Zach really think Chris went around biting people to change their memories? _Asshole._ Besides, it had worked hadn’t it? Zach has never been afraid of him, so doesn’t that count? If Zach _had_ woken up in a hospital, would he have started raving that they hadn’t asked his permission to give him drugs to ease his pain and help him heal?

And he’d growled. _He_ _’_ _d used his growl_. Chris shudders at the memory and a slimy tendril of dread slithers through him when he thinks how the one thing that had helped him remember, helped his body to remember, is gone. Why’d the fucker have to ruin that? Because he’s a vicious prick, that’s why; a privileged Werewolf who’s never had to risk his life or live it hard. He’s had everything handed to him on a fucking platter. And when the full moon got too hard to control he drank the one thing that _would_ harm him to stop it all! _And he freaked out when I gave him something to help! He_ _’_ _d downed the silver like it was water and it could have fucking killed him! My kiss wasn_ _’_ _t going to kill him, it was reducing the trauma, nothing sinister about it._

It had been similar weather the night Patrick had told him about a Vampire’s ability to alter memory. Patrick had been teaching Chris how to feed without the need to kill. Their chosen victim had been carefully observed and Chris knew him to live at a farm not far from the village. Having followed him, Patrick saw him enter the village inn and suggested they let him relax a little before they exposed him to their charms.

Then, once they’d smuggled their prey into the open stable behind the inn where the shadows were darkest, Patrick gave careful instruction where to bite. Chris remembers how his teeth sank into the tender flesh of the farm hand’s neck and Patrick praised him for managing to do so without the victim screaming, although Patrick’s hand was smothering any effort on the farm hand’s part. The older Vampire stroked his hair, encouraging his sucking until he slipped a finger under Chris’s chin, to lift him off.

“That’s enough,” Patrick had murmured. “Remember to stop while the heart’s still beating. Heal the wound and we’ll stay with him until he recovers.”

“I did well?” Chris asked. He’d been so unsure and had wanted to please his mentor. Their age difference physically was only a handful of years, but in Vampire years, Patrick was by far the elder since Chris was barely a year old.

“It was beautiful,” Patrick replied wiping a stray trickle of blood from Chris’s chin. “I enjoy watching you feed almost as much as I love to fuck you.”

Patrick had kissed him then and Chris had blushed, thrilled he’d accomplished the feeding without causing a disturbance.

“I say, what are you two up to?” said a voice. Chris looked up to see the outline of a gentleman holding up a lantern. Before he could utter another word Patrick had leapt up and covered the gentleman’s mouth with his own. After the kiss, Patrick spoke to him, whispering whatever it was until the man nodded and turned away.

The man Chris had fed from was waking and they helped him to his feet. They deposited him back inside the inn, where a few more ales would have him believing his momentary lapse of memory was the drink.

 “Why were you kissing that patron earlier?” Chris asked when they departed.

“We must be careful who sees,” said Patrick. “If too many learn of us, then our existence will be in jeopardy.”

“And kissing them stops them seeing?” he asked, confused.

“No, pet. With our teeth extended our saliva has the medicinal benefit of treating trauma. When we bite a little of it eventually enters the bloodstream so our presence is thought of as dream. Then, because we heal them after, they dismiss us as nightmare and they may continue to live without undue fear.”

Chris hadn’t seen the harm; Patrick was his mentor and knew more of such things than he did. It was later that Chris learned that as long as his fangs no longer penetrated the skin he could drink and not have his saliva affect his donor. The memory of Patrick makes him shiver. It was centuries ago now and what may have passed as acceptable then was perhaps not the way of things now. Though most of the people he’d seen affected had been strangers, he wonders if his idea of being helpful was actually more along the lines of a felony.

It still didn’t give Zach an excuse to say all those things that he did. A corpse, a fucking corpse! He’d called him a corpse; nothing more than a mindless putrid bag of bones and flesh. Like a zombie eating whatever crosses its path; no thoughts, no feelings, no fucking purpose. How _dare_ he!

Chris wants to feed to try and relieve the ache in his throat and the hard lump in his chest that’s making it difficult to breathe. It might not be too late to go to the bar, so he uses his Vampire speed to race the rest of the way home to change. When he opens the door to his locker, his phone starts buzzing, and at first Chris thinks it’s Zach who’s calling him. But it’s not Zach’s number.

“Yeah?” he asks on answering, his next thought that maybe it’s the bar.

“Chris?” says a voice that sounds terrified, as it cracks on his name.

“Anton? What’s wrong, are you okay?” he says.

“Chris, um, I’m in a bit of trouble.”

“Jesus, Anton, what’s happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m in trouble Chris, I’m sorry, I’m really so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s talking about me,” says a voice behind him. He’d forgotten to close the door, and there stands Rachel.

“Anton?” he says, his eyes never leaving Rachel. “Oh God, what have you done?”

 

Sunrise has always been a sight of terrifying beauty for Chris. The scattered clouds are rich corals and oranges, as the sun makes its ascent; awakening the city. He’s in the back of a sleek black car, the windows heavily tinted, but he can still feel the heat of the new day. Rachel drives, easily negotiating the early morning traffic, and it doesn’t take Chris long to realize where they’re destined.

“You understand why you’re here?” she eventually asks when they’re waiting for the elevator.

“You took my friend, I need to get him back,” he says, refusing to look at her. He’s angry she made him leave his phone behind, but then he could have called Zach. No, maybe Lucia, or even Freda, anyone to explain what was happening. He feels helpless without it.

“We know you’re hiding something,” says Rachel, ignoring his reply. “Something my Dominus thinks will be of extreme value.”

“You’ve both got the wrong guy, I’m not hiding anything.”

She replies by giving him a simple look that says she doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t know what they expect him to have. Maybe it’s knowledge, as he’s been around so long. He could speculate forever over the possibilities, but keeps his thoughts to himself as she escorts him through the foyer, and into the main elevators. The sun is up, and though day’s heat would usually make him start to feel weary, the blood he consumed the previous evening is keeping him alert. He needs to find Anton, and sort out the mess he’s got himself into. Had he found a Vampire to turn him? Maybe that’s what they think Chris knows, a Vampire with the ability to turn others. They’ll have to kill him first.

He’s surprised when they descend further down, rather than to the offices above. The last time he’d come this way Zach had taken him to see the Kine. He shudders at the memory and tries to focus on the reason he’s here: Anton. Then after he’s explained the kid is harmless he’ll call Zach. He’s not sure how he’ll get home, but they all have Imus here, and the tinted car seemed safe enough. Although he doesn’t think he ever wants to sit in it again.

The elevator doors slide open to a long corridor pitted with doorways.

“This way,” says Rachel.

“Where’s Anton?”

“He’s safe for now.”

“For now? You guys are into torture, or is it murder?”

“That depends on how cooperative you are.”

Chris feels his stomach lurch, and for the first time since arriving he feels genuinely concerned. What the fuck is going on? Since when do Werewolves kidnap humans?

“Wait in here,” she says indicating a door that is standing open.

Chris steps into an empty, and he hates to admit it, cell. The walls are smooth and plain and the only furniture is a built-in bench running along one wall. He turns to ask where Anton is again, but Rachel has already pulled it closed. It clunks home and with a grating of metal on metal Chris figures he’s been locked in. Three bright purple beams cross in front of the door. The Weres have thought of everything. Actual sunlight would be difficult to get down here, but they’ve obviously figured black light has the same UV element to use against Vampire.

“This is really not good, Pine,” he tells himself. He’d like to be able to sit, but he’s too agitated and worried to be still and so paces the confined space until a brighter, white glow enhances the room. It’s coming from a panel in the opposite wall to his bench and is a window of sorts, because he can see into the next room. It’s the same as the one he’s in, but there’s a chair, and sitting on the chair, looking petrified, is Anton.

“Anton!” Chris calls, thumping the window, but it’s soon obvious that Anton can’t hear him. He’s been crying, his cheeks red and wet, and his eyes are swollen with tears. His clothes appear rumpled, and Chris wonders how long he’s been here. “Oh, Anton.”

“He hasn’t been harmed, nor will he be if you cooperate,” says a voice via a speaker. He instantly recognizes it as Peter.

“What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” says Peter. “We want you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You have Vampires. You have a fucking _army_ of them!”

“Perhaps, but none of them are quite as special as you.”

“There’s nothing special about me, just a blood sucking leech like the rest of them,” he says. He can feel the dread seeping though his limbs and into his stomach. Anton’s wearing his typical black t-shirt and jeans, but they seem grimy, and he thinks the kid has been sweating, whether from heat or terror, Chris can’t tell.

“How old are you?” asks Peter.

“What?”

“Your age, I want to know how old you are.”

“I already told you, I’m—”

“No, you lied to me; I want to know your real age. What date was it when you were turned?”

“I’m two hundred and—”

“Let me be perfectly clear. I have no problem in forcing this information from you, by any means necessary.”

Suddenly the cell goes very quiet, and Chris knows Peter has shut off the speaker. As he watches he sees Rachel enter Anton’s cell. Even with the soundproofing Chris manages to hear Anton’s cries, as though he’s far away.

“No, no, please!” Anton shrieks. “I told you everything!”

Rachel glances at the window and smiles, showing her extended fangs.

“No!” shouts Chris, banging hard on the window as she grabs Anton’s hair, yanks back his head and bites firmly into his neck. Anton screams, and rivulets of blood trickle down his neck to soak his filthy t-shirt. “No, you fucking bastards, let him go!” He belts the window harder, trying to get through, but there’s only one way to save Anton. “I’m almost five hundred years old!” he shouts. “I was turned February sixteenth, five hundred years ago.” His voice lowers, his fists sliding off the window when Rachel releases Anton before she daintily wipes her lip, again smiling at the window before she leaves the cell. “I’m so sorry Anton,” he whispers.

“Thank you for cooperating,” says Peter, the speaker once again alive.

“Let him go,” says Chris.

“He’s of no use to us now, but he’s a liability. Don’t you think he’s seen too much?”

“Jesus, no, I’ll talk to him. Let me talk to him. You have me, I’ll do whatever you want, just let him go.”

The window seems to become clearer, and Chris sees Anton look up, focusing on him.

“Chris?”

“Anton,” he can hear him clearly now.

“Chris, I’m sorry,” says Anton, standing and coming to the window. “They made me tell them where you lived. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“It’s okay, Anton, as long as you’re okay,” says Chris. “Did she hurt you?”

“Yeah, it’s not how you do it. You seem to make it sexy, she just bit me.” Anton touches his neck and his fingers come away covered in blood.

“I don’t think they’ll let me heal you,” says Chris.

“It’s okay, I’m alright. Are the police coming?”

Sweet, naïve Anton. “No, Anton,” says Chris. “Do me a favor, and don’t get them involved, okay? They might not like hearing stories about Vampires and Werewolves.”

“But they took us, and that woman bit me.”

“Trust me Anton, you’ll only make it harder for yourself, and me. There’s nothing the police can do, they probably won’t even believe you, with tales about Vampire and Werewolves. Just promise me you won’t say anything.”

“But,” says Anton, and Chris can hear the injustice.

“Dude, I know, this totally sucks, but for my sake,” he says, although he really means for Anton’s sake, “please don’t say anything.”

“They’ve threatened you, haven’t they? Did they tell you I’d be safe if I kept quiet?”

“I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you, Anton. Please do as I say, and don’t go to the police. I’m okay, I can handle them, but not if I knew you were in any kind of danger.”

“Okay,” says Anton. “I won’t say anything.”

“I have your word?”

“Yes.”

“He’s given me his word,” says Chris loudly. “Let him go, and leave him alone.”

“He’s given his,” says Peter’s voice. “But do I have yours? Will you do as I ask for the sake of his safety?”

“Yes, as long as I have your word he won’t be harmed.”

“Of course,” says Peter. “ _I’m_ not a monster.”

Chris sees the door to Anton’s cell open, but instead of Rachel a man that looks like a security guard indicates that Anton is to leave. “I still love you, Chris,” says Anton hurriedly. “I know I can’t have you, but I’ll do what I can to get you out of this.” He presses his lips to the window where Chris’s hand is resting flat against it.

“Don’t do anything, Anton. Just stay safe.”

Anton looks back once before the guard escorts him from the cell, and closes the door. The light goes out, and Chris is shrouded in the eerie purple glow of his cell.

_One call and I could have you put away…_

Oh God.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unaware of Chris's fate, Zach sinks into the shame and guilt of the things he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: extra gore, horror

Zach doesn’t remember sleeping, but he comes to with the understanding that he must have been passed out if he’s actually woken. There’s a moment, so terribly finite, where he’s happy—until the events of last night tumble through his mind like a tidal wave through an unsuspecting city.

Chris admitted to drugging him, had done it on purpose because in some insane part of his mind he deemed it a good idea. Zach’s stomach lurches at the notion that someone he’d become so close to and _loved_ has betrayed him in the worst possible way. Chris had no right, no _right_ to do what he did! It was a blatant violation of Zach’s rights as a person. Incapacitated as he was, Chris had taken full advantage of the situation and had done nothing short of infecting Zach with his toxic saliva.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the Vampire had eventually made his way back to that bar. Sucking on the necks of all those unsuspecting, trusting humans who have no idea what’s being injected into their veins.

 _That’s not fair._ He knows Chris isn’t like that. It’s hard not to think about it, though, and wonder if the man he thought he knew is really capable of such contempt. _If that were true, would Chris have bothered to save your life? Wouldn’t he have simply joined in?_ Zach is very aware that the twins drugged him because they bit him and fed from him with their fangs buried in his flesh. They _had_ injected their poison. They did it as they would to any human they feasted on; dulling the senses so he wouldn’t be afraid of the next one looking for a feed.

Chris had _kissed_ him, knowingly imparting his toxic saliva into Zach’s mouth. Zach shudders. Something that had always been so beautiful and meaningful between them is now spoiled. He remembers how Chris wouldn’t let him kiss him when his fangs were out. The bastard _knew_!

He rolls over. The bedcovers are tangled and drag along with him, twisting around him more, making him feel even hotter. He beats them back, spreads out on the too-warm mattress and inadvertently kicks Harold out of the way.

“Oh, sorry dude!” Zach calls, sitting up to see where he’s run off to. The cat jumps up onto the seat of one of the dining chairs, glaring at Zach through half closed eyes. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know you were there.”

_You fucking corpse!_

He flops back, the night has completely drained him and he’s thankful it’s Christmas day so he won’t have to trudge into work. What a shitty day it’s going to be. Merry fucking Christmas!

His stomach only manages a couple of mouthfuls of breakfast and when he finally relents and shoves the bowl away he’s staring straight at the Christmas tree. Its bright glittering colors and sparkling festiveness seem to mock him for the pain he feels so he takes it all down, every ornament and bauble, every sting of lights and tinsel. He begins to pack the tree away in its box when he reaches the two envelopes perched on a lower branch.

_You fucking corpse!_

He picks them up, but sets them on the coffee table. Not now, he doesn’t want to think about what they mean now. Once the apartment is completely purged of anything remotely festive Zach lies on the sofa to watch whatever reruns are showing.

_Oh God, what have I done?_

Rather than hearing his own angry voice on constant replay he calls his mom and brother. His mother questions his state as he sounds tired, and is he eating regularly, and how’s work, and why hadn’t he called to let her know he was okay after the full moon! The call to Joe is easier and he’s grateful his brother seems to sense his reluctance to talk.

_What have I done? What have I done?_

_You fucking corpse!_

He’s hardly surprised that when the apartment gets dark there’s no sign of Chris.

_I want you gone!_

He’d hoped Chris might have come looking for forgiveness, giving him the opportunity to apologize for the things he said. He doesn’t bother with lights, just goes to bed and lies there watching the grey ceiling, reliving every nasty comment he made. It bothers Zach that Chris is taking the wounded stance. Seriously, so he’d been called corpse, so what? Zach’s sure in all his five centuries he’s been called a lot worse. _He’s_ the one who’s been wronged; _he’s_ the one who was given mind-altering drugs.

_You fucking corpse! I want you gone!_

When he recalls how Chris had looked when he’d hurled that last insult he feels his insides coil up like a tangled slinky. It’s no wonder Chris hasn’t come over, why would he? Zach made sure the Vampire knew exactly how he felt and then he went the extra mile to ensure Chris’s heart and soul were crushed to dust.

The fact that Chris hadn’t come during the night only adds to Zach’s melancholy the next morning. But he does adhere to the advice of only going out during the day. Regardless of their own failings, it doesn’t rule out Peter’s attempts to kill him. And now that he’s without Chris, if only temporarily, he has no choice.

Because of the holiday many of his colleagues have taken advantage to go away for an extended long weekend. It means his days aren’t as busy and there are several moments when there’s nothing pending and the ominous darkness that’s always festering in the back of his mind, pushes forward.

_You fucking corpse! I want you gone!_

Without work to stem the flow, his mind is easily overrun with the cruel exchanges and seething vehemence they’d slung at each other. He sighs and holds his head in his hands, with his elbows leaning on the desk. Why had he growled? Why had he called him such a horrible thing? Was there even a Werewolf equivalent? If there is, then Zach has no idea what it is, but whatever it is he’s beginning to think it would describe him perfectly. What he said was uncalled for and to make it worse he’d growled at him. Chris had been fearful of it, but he liked it. Zach could feel the Vampire melting against him when he did it. And he’d thrown the beauty of it like a punch to Chris’s gut.

And what of their future? Do they part ways anyway? He can’t see Chris being his Imus again after what he said. He’d never really understood why it was such a bad word to use against a Vampire. But he remembers his father saying it, and even Joe until their mother clouted him and told him not to use such appalling language. One time at dinner his father said it and he remembers his mother angrily demanding that he never say such a thing at the dinner table. She’d said it was demeaning and derogatory, that Vampires were not mindless lumps of putrefying flesh, but people with thoughts and feelings. It had been a silent meal after that and when he’d tried to ask Joe about it later, his older brother said he wouldn’t understand.

“Hey,” says a soft voice. Zach looks up and sees Zoë. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says blinking and sitting up straighter. “Rough night.”

Zoë nods. “It can be hard.”

He assumes Zoë thinks it’s because he’s so far from home and had to spend Christmas alone. He’s happy for her to think that. Anything but the truth. No one is likely to understand.

“I’m here if ever you want to talk, okay?” she says, her voice is so gentle Zach wonders where the fire comes from.

“Thanks.”

“A few of us are going to Cerberus later. Did you wanna come? Have a drink or two?”

“I really can’t,” he says, fumbling for an excuse. “I just, yeah, I just can’t.”

“It’s okay, I understand, but you don’t have to hide away, okay? Don’t think this is it. It will get better.”

“Thanks Zo,” he says and does his best not to just let her know anyway when her hand, settles with a sweet warmth on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. It feels so different to the cool touch he’s become so familiar with.

“You’re not alone.”

 

The apartment seems oddly cold and lifeless when he sits on his sofa, watching TV with Noah’s head in his lap. It’s crazy, because he has his pets (Harold eventually forgave him for the kick) and his things and it really does smell like home now. But he can’t deny there’s a great yawning hole in the atmosphere that was filled by the Vampire.

He holds his cell close before tapping through to Chris’s number, his thumb hovering over the dial button until the screen flicks to black to save power. He’s lost count the number of times he’s tried, and once his thumb had actually hit, but he’d managed to stop the call, hopefully before it registered on Chris’s.

Zach had hoped Chris would call by now. Then he wouldn’t have to. Sure he’d said some awful stuff, they both had. But it was said in the heat of the moment. Doesn’t he want to talk about it? He pokes the phone back to life and stares at Chris’s photo, the one he’d selected as Chris’s caller id. It was one he’d taken weeks ago when they’d been sitting on the sofa, playing whatever game Chris had brought. He’s facing the TV, but whatever happened in the instant of the photo, he’s turned to the phone, his smile radiating from the picture, lighting up his face, his eyes and probably the entire room at the time. A lock of his hair is hooked over his forehead and for a pain-filled moment Zach really wishes he could reach in and stroke it back in place. Instead, his thumb lightly presses the call button.

It instantly answers with Chris’s voicemail, “Chris here, leave a message.”

For a moment Zach can’t reply, the sound of Chris’s voice slices deeper into the wound. “Uh, hey, it’s me,” he begins feebly. “I, um, wondered if you could, perhaps give me a call, okay? Just, yeah. If you could call. Please.” He disconnects feeling the knife drive in. Had he really just been screened? He’d made the first move, dammit, why hadn’t Chris accepted it as a chance to reconcile?

Zach flicks the phone angrily onto the coffee table and sits back to watch the TV. He doesn’t even know what the show is, but the point is that if Chris doesn’t give a shit, then neither will he. He briefly considers going out to look for him. He stares at his phone, willing it to ring, yearning for the heartfelt apology and the anguish as Chris begs forgiveness. Would it help? Would it let them get back all that’s been lost? Can he trust Chris anymore?

When he still hasn’t heard from the Vampire days later he debates whether or not he should just front up to Chris’s locker, or go to Bar Sinister this coming Saturday. The thought leads to a visual of Chris dressed all in black with his black eyeliner and bad-ass boots. Jesus, he looked so hot like that.

Zach is already missing the sex. Goddamn, the sex had been awesome. The times when Chris just opened to him, gave himself fully to whatever punishing pace Zach set. And that time on the roof, when he took total control. It had been one of the hottest fucks of Zach’s life. The memory sends a shiver through him and his cock throbs in hope. Why not? He doesn’t need anyone’s permission to go it alone.

He fetches lube and finds one of his DVDs, since he hardly needs a tracking history of porn on the laptop he also uses for work. _Yeah, that’s more like it_ , he thinks when a pair of especially cute guys come on screen and begin tugging at each other. Legs splayed, Zach squirts lube on his hand and grips himself. For an aching moment the chill of it reminds him of Chris and he very nearly loses his erection. He strokes once, twice and concentrates on the groaning bodies on the screen. Thankfully it warms up quickly, but the nagging ache doesn’t leave and it’s Chris in his mind and their bodies thrashing on screen and Chris’s name he murmurs when he comes.

When he finally makes it to bed, in the hope that by coming his body will allow him to sleep, the gnawing hollowness that’s residing throughout his body keeps him very much awake. A sudden bang is closely followed by several more, and through the blinds Zach can see glittering colors and bright flashes of light. He goes to the window and pushes the blind aside to see the sky lit up with fireworks. Bursts of color explode in the sky and it takes him a minute to realize it’s New Year. He feels Noah’s wet nose touch his bare leg; the dog, like many, doesn’t like loud noises. Zach lets him come onto the bed and they snuggle together, his arm over Noah’s thick grey coat. He remembers then it’s been a week since the fight; a week since he heard from Chris. He wonders if the Vampire has left the city and is even more tempted to go to the storage facility.

“It’s okay buddy, it’ll be over soon,” he says, stroking Noah’s fur.

It saddens him that this is how it will end, without closure. Even with Matt they had made it final; it hadn’t been pretty, but at least they knew where each other stood. But this time it feels a thousand times worse. When he lets himself dwell on it Zach can feel the open maw of the abyss that threatens to consume him. The raw pain of losing something that had meant so much.

Eventually, the habit of checking his phone becomes incessant. He can’t leave it anywhere and freaks out when it isn’t in his immediate pocket. He double checks that it’s charged and charges it every night by his bedside. He scrolls through the messages in case one managed to pop in there without him knowing. On the weekend he drives to the storage facility at dusk, slowing to a mere crawl to see if he can catch Chris leaving. A tooting horn gets him moving again, but he simply does an illegal U-turn further up the street and tries again. When it’s really dark and Chris still hasn’t appeared Zach detours passed Bar Sinister on his way home. He scans the queue, trying to recognize hair color, height, even the style of clothes, but he’s not there.

His work begins to suffer and a few times people have questioned his figures. He makes the changes, but doesn’t make any apology for the error. The days stretch to weeks, but when he sees in his calendar that the full moon is due the following week he feels a growing sense of panic in his stomach. After Leonard’s lecture Zach doesn’t think he’ll be able to get out of it. Regardless of how he feels about Chris, he’s certain he never wants to hunt again.

Why hasn’t the fucker called?

He manages to make several numerical mistakes in a presentation during an important meeting, which disastrously includes Leonard. And with his face burning he corrects himself, but he’s convinced the damage has been done and after everything else he’s waiting for the termination notice that’s sure to come.

Sitting in his office, he waits for the inevitable knock, but when it finally occurs he’s surprised to see Zoë standing in the doorway.

“We seriously need to talk,” she says and pulls up a chair to sit opposite him. “Please talk to me. I know you’re hurting, we can all see it.”

“I can’t, Zo,” he says devastated that it’s come to this. Life goes on; people get over each other all the time, and yet he feels as though he’s carrying around the burden of the condemned. He’s even more ashamed of the fact that he’s made it so blatantly obvious.

“You didn’t think it would be this bad?”

“I have a handle on it, it’s fine,” he says defensively. They can’t know the truth behind it, although someone is sure to have noticed the fact that he hasn’t brought Chris in of late.

“No, you don’t Zach,” she says and places a hand over his. “Making the decision you did can take its toll. You were close, that goes without saying, and you have every right to feel bad about it.”

Zach’s suddenly confused. “What? What decision?”

“The decision to bring Chris in,” says Zoë, as though it should have been obvious.

His immediate reaction is bewilderment. He hasn’t brought Chris in for weeks. What the hell is she talking about? And when understanding reaches in it takes a firm constrictive grip on his heart and squeezes and squeezes until his body begins to reject every molecule of oxygen in his system. “Oh, God,” he says, trying to breathe. “What do you mean bring him in?” But he’s already certain of the answer.

“To be made Kine,” she says looking just as confused and worried as she watches his face. “Zach, honey, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t,” he says, still trying to get air into his lungs. “I didn’t bring him in. I’d never, oh _God_!”

_You fucking corpse! I want you gone!_

“Zach?” He doesn’t see Zoë get out of the chair until she’s right there, that incredible face staring at him, terrified. “Sweetie, are you alright?”

”He never, I never,” Zach repeats over and over. It can’t be true; it has to be a mistake. As angry and hurt as he’d been by Chris’s actions, he would _never_ sentence a Vampire to become Kine. What the fuck happened? Had he been found by someone? Perhaps taken off the street unwillingly; kidnapped? Oh shit, had he decided to end it after the fight? Had he been that ashamed that he figured the only way to fix it was to hand himself in? _Jesus Christ, what the hell have I done?_

His last words to the Vampire echo through his mind in a repetitious, resounding peal: _You fucking corpse! I want you gone!_ It’s followed by a loud rumbling growl.

A glass of water is pushed into his hand and Zoë begins urging him to have a drink. He can see she’s worried, biting her lips and looking through the window, then back at him as though thinking.

“Zach,” she says, carefully bringing the glass back from his mouth. “Are you sure you didn’t send him? You didn’t sign him over? Acquisitions would have had you sign a Relinquishment form. Do you remember doing that?”

Zach shakes his head. “We had a fight, I threw him out, I haven’t heard from him since.” The water helps so he takes another mouthful although he wishes his hands would stop shaking.

“Shit, something’s happened then. Maybe he was picked up.” She turns Zach’s laptop to face her and begins typing. “Okay, I don’t have full access to Acquisitions’ systems, but I have some clearance. In fact, you would too.” She runs a finger down the screen while Zach watches, his heart thrumming almost painfully in his throat. “Not to sound harsh, but when did you two fight?”

“Christmas Eve.” He doesn’t have to try and remember since the date will be forever branded in his mind. The day his life turned to complete shit.

“Oh no,” she says, a hand going to her mouth at whatever discovery she’s made.

Zach almost loses it, leaping from his chair to get around behind her. “What? What’s happened?” His immediate thought is that Chris is dead, that Peter found him, took him and executed him. A nasty visual of the rubber target with Chris’s photo flashes through his head.

“He’s gone, Zach,” she says, turning to him, her eyes full of sympathy.

“What?!” _Fuck no! Please don’t let him be dead!_

“He’s been sent to the facility in Joshua Tree.”

He manages to swallow down a gasp of air. _Thank God he’s still alive._ “Joshua Tree?” He has a vague recollection of his conversation with Karl and pieces begin fitting in place when he thinks about the reports he’s presented that have incorporated other WOLPh sites. Joshua Tree was listed, but he never paid it much attention.

“Yes, it’s our research facility. Kine are sent there for study.”

Zach clutches the desk, leaning heavily as his legs are no longer working properly. _Research?_ “What will happen to him?”

“I don’t know.” She sets the laptop aside and turns to him, grasping his bicep in a firm, reassuring squeeze. “I know a few people there. I can ask.”

Zach nods, there’s nothing else he can do. Without further information there’s little hope of him finding Chris. He has no choice but to hope Zoë can find out more. “Do you think I can get him back?”

“I don’t know that either. I’ve never heard of Kine coming back from Joshua Tree.”

“How far is Joshua Tree?”

“Zach, don’t be rash. Let me make some enquiries.” She hops off the desk and heads for the door, but suddenly turns back around. “I have an idea. I’ll speak to Leonard. As head of finance it’s probably a good idea you have a tour of our facility in Joshua Tree anyway.”

Zach brightens momentarily, until he remembers the last time he spoke with Leonard, and the meeting and every other disappointing thing he’s done since. “I don’t know if Leonard will be too keen on the idea.” He’s almost certain Leonard wants him front and center where he can’t get into any more trouble.

“That’s actually cute,” she says, and her smile hasn’t so much as faltered. “You have no idea what I can get Leonard to let me do. Cheer up. We’ll find him.”

And for the first time in however long, Zach actually feels a little better.

Just as he’s about to pack up and leave the office, Zoë comes in looking excited and a little guarded. She closes the door behind her after checking to see the hall is clear, then armed with a sheaf of paper she comes to his desk.

“Look what I’ve found,” she says and places the pile in front of him.

Zach skims the pages, they’re photocopies of official-looking forms, and there’s a signature on the bottom of a few: he recognizes it as Peter’s.

“What is this?” he asks.

“They’re the transfer orders for Chris. See? Here’s the date of acquisition. Zach, he was made Kine on Christmas Day!”

“Oh, shit,” he says, slumping a little in the chair. It certainly answers the question of where he’d been and why he hadn’t picked up the phone.

“Then here,” she says pushing pages out of the way and pointing again. “See? This was when approval for transfer to Joshua Tree occurred. Then here, this is when he was transferred.”

Zach looks at the date. Chris has been at the Joshua Tree facility for over two weeks. “Is he in danger? Will they have done anything to him?”

“I don’t know, but I think we should get there as soon as we can. I’ve spoken to Leonard, but I still need his approval. Apparently Peter’s there and has been for several days.”

“Peter’s there?” says Zach, surprised. Why would Peter be there? Was it to do with Chris? Oh God, he knows! He remembers the very first meeting he had here, the one when Peter announced his desire to locate Rakdanavas. Could that be why his signature is all over the forms? Did he somehow find out Chris’s true age? “I have a really, really bad feeling about all this.”

“What? Why?” asks Zoë, shuffling up the papers into a neat pile. “It must have been a misunderstanding if you didn’t relinquish him…” She goes through the pages again. “That’s strange, there isn’t a Relinquishment here. It should have been on file.”

Zach looks at her. “A really _bad_ feeling.”

 

Even though Zoë is taking the official route of requesting permission, Zach is determined that nothing will stop him from getting to Chris. The information he can find on WOLPh systems about the facility in Joshua Tree is limited, but he does learn that as one of WOLPh’s executives he has clearance to enter the building and access some of the more restricted areas.

His first inclination is to charge in, grab Chris and bug out, but no sooner does he think it he knows it will fail. It may take time, but even if he does succeed in getting Chris out, what then?

He lies awake for a long time, trying to consider how he’s going to bust out a sleeping Vampire from a building in the middle of the Mojave Desert. And where to take him after? His first impulse is to get them to Pittsburgh, but it’s logistically too far without getting on a plane. And he has to be careful of sunlight, and he doesn’t even know what state Chris will be in once he gets him out of that god-awful humidicrib. He won’t allow himself to consider the worst that just can’t happen.

When nothing immediately springs to mind he gets up and begins to pace, sleep being the furthest thing from his mind. Noah comes to investigate by pressing his cold, wet nose to Zach’s leg.

“Hey, boy,” he says, scratching behind the wolf-hound’s ears. “Do you miss him too?”

Zach’s not even angry anymore: at least not at Chris. It all seems so stupid now and those final words, and his angry growl keep going around and around in his head like an evil incantation. The powerlessness is crippling when he tries to formulate some way to get Chris back. He just wants the Vampire back and safe.

Though he knows he shouldn’t, Zach dresses and grabs up his car keys, then heads out the front door. Pulling up at the storage facility, Zach remembers the codes Chris had given him and goes inside.

When he tries the roller door, he’s surprised it opens, but his senses soon fill with Chris’s scent and when he flicks on the light Zach sees all of his lover’s things.

“God, Chris,” he sighs, looking around the locker.  The massive TV hangs blank on the wall, and in front of it, the cruddy couch where Chris had kept him cool and safe the night of the full moon. He almost loses it when he sees the bottle warmer. “Jesus, I gotta get you back.”

He pulls down the door and sees Chris’s phone lying inert on the coffee table. Its battery is dead, but it might have answers, so he picks it up and slips it into his pocket and goes to find its charger.  He wanders around, slides a hand over the edge of Chris’s box, strokes the velvet covered cushion and drinks in Chris’s heady scent of decaying seaside. His cock twitches in memory and he rumples the fabric when his hands become fists, frustrated that he’s here and Chris isn’t. The Vampire isn’t even in LA!

“Goddamn it!” Zach barks, thumping the cushion with his fist. He can’t see a way out of this. Even if he does get to Joshua Tree, will they just hand him back? If Peter knows Chris’s age then it’s even less likely he’ll be able to just sign a form to have his Imus reinstated. Is that even what he wants? Hell no, he just wants Chris.

Sitting on the couch, Zach picks up one of Chris’s abandoned shirts that’s draped over the back of it. He brings it to his face and inhales. Oh God, it’s like he’s right there, his body up close and pressing against him. Zach slips a hand under his waistband and gives his cock a few tugs of encouragement. With Chris’s shirt on his face the effect is almost instant. With Chris’s scent permeating through his senses it doesn’t take long and Zach spills in his underwear, bucking a few times until his orgasm subsides and he pulls his hand back out.

 He pulls Chris’s shirt off his face, dropping it on the couch while he leans back to stare at the ceiling. He lets out a sigh, but as he comes up again, something catches his eye. Chris’s pin board on the wall is still covered in photos and diagrams and lists and notes. Zach stands, and scans over the patchwork that is Chris’s mine.

What if Zach could get him there? Could Chris hide there until he turned? Searching through the paraphernalia Zach finds maps and coordinates. He brings up Google on his phone and locates the mine near the small town of Tonopah a few miles north of Las Vegas. What if Chris stayed in Vegas until he turned?  Then afterwards they could maybe move to Pittsburgh and live quietly without the threat of WOLPh.

It’s a sketchy plan at best, but at least it’s a course of action. Unsure what Chris might need, Zach collects the photos and maps and scraps of paper. He finds a small knapsack and packs it with jeans, t-shirt, and a pair of boots.  Then, with Chris’s phone still in his pocket he leaves the locker, making sure it shuts properly even though he can’t lock it. Armed with what he feels are Chris’s release papers Zach drives home feeling as though he might just have a chance.

The coffee table becomes a reflection of Chris’s pin board with everything set in as close an order as Zach can bring it. He wants to understand what Chris had planned and learn how the Vampire thought to carry it out. He carefully files it all in neatly in a large shoe box and places it next to the knapsack. Then he goes to bed and manages to fall asleep almost immediately.

 

Had he known the mountains Zoë’s determination could move he might have engaged in her help long ago. The meeting with Leonard did not go well; in fact, Leonard was on the brink of stopping them altogether until Zoë made the point that if Zach was to be an effective head of finance, then wouldn’t it make sense to check the financial goings-on at Joshua Tree?

In spite of WOLPh’s advanced technology Zoë made it extremely clear that none of this checking was achievable here, Zach _had_ to go there. Her speech was so impressive Leonard didn’t even question why she was accompanying him.

Now they’re both organizing themselves for a trip to the Mojave Desert and the remote town of Joshua Tree. He books Harold and Noah into boarding kennels, ensures there’s nothing overly perishable in the fridge and ensures anything electrical that isn’t essential is switched off at the wall.

Zoë had suggested they hire a car, but Zach is still eager to see how well the Mustang will run on the open road.

“What about Eric?” he asks when she gets into the car, her bags already stowed in the trunk. He’d expected some comment about the amount of luggage _he’s_ brought along, but if it piqued her interest, she’s not pursuing it.

“Already taken care of,” she says while looking about the car’s interior. “Nice ride,” she says, stroking the dash.

“Thanks. I’ve been hanging out to really test her and this is the perfect opportunity. So you were saying about Eric?”

“Oh yes, he’ll be safely taken to Joshua Tree in one of our specialized transports. I could have waited until tonight, but I know how much you want to get going and I‘d rather Eric and I weren’t separated for too long. I don’t like it when he’s not protected.”

“When _he’s_ not protected?” Zach asks as he pulls out of her drive and sets the preprogrammed GPS. At most it’s a two hour drive, but the last thing he wants is to become completely lost in the desert.

“Sometimes they need us as much as we need them. I just feel better knowing where he is.”

“Yeah,” says Zach, he has to agree having experienced weeks of not knowing why Chris hadn’t called only to find out he’d been made Kine. _God Chris, I’m sorry_. “I let him down.”

“I don’t think so. It seems too suspicious to me, unless he turned himself in. How bad was the fight?”

“Really bad.”

“Oh.” She squeezes his arm. “We’ll get him back. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

Zach’s not so sure he agrees. He’s certain this has been Peter’s doing. But what worries him more is the length of time Chris has been there. Will they have done anything to him? Is he even still alive?

“Will he be different?” he asks, not realizing what he’s asking.

“What do you mean? He’ll be a bit out of it, but no different to when he woke up the first time.”

“Oh,” says Zach and feels the color flood his face.

“He’s Rogue isn’t he?’” she asks squarely.

“Yes,” says Zach, and avoids looking at her. “He saved my life and we came to an agreement.”

“Oh Zach!” she says, her brow creasing. “Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing would have happened.”

“You don’t know that. How could you know that?”

“He saved my life Zo, what else could I do? I certainly wasn’t going to make him Kine first. No one deserves that.” He stops at a set of lights, impatient to reach the highway.

“Zach, we have people in that building, human people who come to work believing they are safe, that nothing will happen and they’ll go back home to their families without harm. Bringing a Rogue into that building is like—like sending a wasp into a hive! Anything could have set him off and then there would have been blood on _your_ hands.”

Zach grips the wheel. He hadn’t really wanted to start the two hour trip with an argument. “He isn’t like that,” he says.

“You don’t know what he would become!” she says sounding exasperated. “Haven’t you read the historical accounts? We have protocols Zach, measures in place to ensure we are protected. The only thing that stops us from being overrun by guys like him is the fact that we’re organized, and they skulk around in the sewer tearing each other apart if one so much as breathes differently!”

Zach feels the hairs on his neck prickle. They were almost the same words he’d used on Chris. To hear them from someone else makes them sound nasty and hurtful. He hates the fact that they came out of his mouth aimed directly at Chris.

“He saved my life, Zoë. What Vampire saves lives? If you’re so convinced they’re nothing but savage killers, explain why he would go to such lengths to rescue a creature who has sworn to see his species wiped from the planet?”

“They are and always will be a threat. We’re working so hard to keep the human race safe, why would we want to keep their killers on the streets?” she says pointedly.

“He’s not a killer. What if there are more like him, not killers, just people trying to forge an existence?”

“They are not people,” she says icily.

“They used to be. And we’re using them to experiment on.”

She seems to soften a little at that. He hears her sigh even though he remains focused on the road. “Zach, once a Vampire, always a Vampire. These creatures are a menace, you know that, you might not have had the complete A to Z drummed into you, but you know deep down what they mean. We are society’s protectors, and whatever it takes to ensure the safety of not just humans, but us as well, it is our duty to carry it out.”

He lets the silence between them stretch. He’d been looking forward to the trip, driving the Mustang and chatting with Zoë. He likes Zoë, has done since the first day they met, but her viewpoint saddens him. Does she really feel that way about Vampires?

It’s not until they hit the highway that Zach speaks. “What would you do for your Imus?” he asks.

“You mean like feeding him and stuff?”

“In general, in life, in the day to day, or night to night, what would you do for him?”

She doesn’t answer straight away and Zach’s pleased she’s considering the question. She doesn’t answer for a long time, and when she does it’s softly spoken, but very final. “Anything.”

Zach looks at her momentarily. “The bond thing?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s pretty strong between us. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“The bond between Chris and I formed a lot quicker than normal. It started pretty much from the moment we met. We think it’s because he was Rogue and not subjected to being Kine first.”

“You’re worried your bond will be compromised because of what’s happened?”

“Maybe, but I’m more worried that he’ll change as a person because of this, that he won’t be the man I—” he stops himself before he says too much.

“Fell for?” Zoë says quietly. Though it’s said as a question, Zach can see she’s not after an answer, because it’s already the truth. “I know.”

“How was Eric when you, after you, when he...?”

“I picked Eric because he had been a Vampire for a while, a Kine for several years and when I saw him there sleeping my heart was drawn to him.” She smiles. “He’s so tall and strong, it seemed a shame that such a specimen should lie there when he looked like a protector. I researched him thoroughly, you know me, no stone unturned. He came from Australia originally, had been turned there before he came over here.”

“What happens to them? When they’re put under, you know, made Kine?” Zach asks.

“I’m not across the whole process, in fact it’s probably mostly rumor. They’re thoroughly cleansed first and then they put them into one of those humidicribs. It takes a bit to get the needle in; their skin is quite tough.” She gets a far off look in her eyes when Zach glances at her, but he can see she looks troubled. “It takes a while to drain them, and the only way they know it’s done is when the body spasms. They have to be quick with the feeding tube then before rigor mortis sets in. Once the blood gets down to their stomach they relax again and it’s as though they’re asleep.” Zach isn’t sure if her eyes seem a little moist, but whatever she’s seen it clearly affected her.

Zach doesn’t know what to say. He can’t give her comfort or even reassurance. To hear what Chris has gone through only makes it hard to swallow as this mouth is completely dry and his throat has closed up.

 

When they reach Joshua Tree Zach has already had enough of being in the desert. Bleak and dry and so very remote from anything in spite of the small town that regardless of its desolate surrounds is full of activity. Zach manages to find a gas station to refuel and get them a couple of snacks. The security gate to the facility is a large boom gate that seems a bit conspicuous with its barren surroundings. In its attempt to remain unobtrusive there’s an old wooden board tied to the fence where the letters look as though they once spelled out some kind of threat to trespassers. Zach’s pass lets them through to where stunted old palm trees line the drive. Even the plot of trees used to perhaps screen the buildings behind the fence are withered and tired and in desperate need of a drink.

Unsure what he’d even expected, Zach is almost disappointed to find WOLPh’s research facility is little more than a large white shed.

“Hiding in plain sight,” says Zoë and points to direct him to the car park. A roller door automatically senses them and begins to open, revealing a tunnel. “This is just for show,” she says, waving a dismissive hand at the shed. “Everything that’s of interest to us is underground.”

“Impressive,” Zach murmurs when he drives out of the glaring sunlight. They park the car and he’s grateful Zoë’s there since she knows where to go. They haven’t needed to book into a hotel since WOLPh had considered accommodating visiting staff when the facility was initially built. There isn’t even a front desk, just a series of scanners and id checks, all automated to ensure the people entering the restricted site are authorized to do so.

Zoë gets them to their quarters and Zach almost believes he’s no longer underground when he sees his room. Exquisitely furnished, he could be in a five star hotel instead of deep underground. He finds an outlet and plugs in Chris's phone to charge.  

Once settled, Zoë meets him outside the cafeteria where they planned to have lunch before venturing any further.

“How you feeling?” she asks after swallowing a mouthful of her pasta salad.

“Okay, I think,” says Zach fiddling with his own food. The meal looks delicious, crab cakes with a side salad. But he picks at it, his stomach too nervous to eat. “I’m just worried.”

“We’ll find Peter, then—”

“No, I don’t want to see Peter. I just need to get to Chris.”

“Okay,” says Zoë, sounding startled and wary. He sips her tea and he can feel her eyeing him even though he’s staring at his mutilated crab cake.

“I just need to see him,” he says quietly. He feels her hand on his forearm.

“Of course, I understand,” she puts down her fork. “Why don’t we go find him?”

“You haven’t finished.”

“It’s okay, I can eat later. You haven’t eaten anything. Come on, let’s go.”

The feeling of anxious foreboding gathers around Zach’s heart as he follows Zoë back to the elevators. They keep their passes on hand at all times since it’s needed to open almost any door. She consults a directory while they wait and when they step in she swipes her pass and selects the floor. The elevator begins to descend.

“I’m going on assumption here,” she says. “He could be anywhere, but we can try the most logical place first, then maybe we can find someone who can look him up.”

“Yeah,” says Zach.

“I don’t like where we’re going, I’ve only been there once and once was enough. Just be ready.”

Zach wishes Zoë had given him a more specific warning. When they exit the elevator he can hear cries and screams and muffled groans of pain. The shrill buzzing of a saw, the crack of splitting bone and a strong smell of death permeates the air. In spite of their argument, Zach senses that Zoë is not comfortable with this part of WOLPh. Translucent glass hides the actual view, but as they follow the corridor it’s replaced with clear.

Without even being aware, Zach’s jaw drops. At the center of a brightly lit, circular room, strapped to a platform that’s tilted at a steep angle is what looks to be a Vampire. His arms are outstretched and firmly bound, as is his head, neck, waist and legs. He’s completely naked, and held up as he is so the group of what look like scientists, since they’re all in lab coats, can view the demonstration unhindered.

The Vampire is in tremendous pain, his cries muffled by the gag bound tightly to his mouth. His chest has been sawn open and the scientists are looking into the cavity, nodding as the lead scientist points out various aspects.

“Oh my God,” says Zach. “He’s—he’s still alive!”

“Yes,” says Zoë stoically. He can see she’s trying to avoid looking directly at the scene. “They can withstand a lot as long as the heart remains unharmed and they keep the head intact.

“Jesus Christ!” He wants to look away and as they continue to walk past he can see the heart beating between the Vampire’s lungs, the ribs held apart so his insides can be studied. “This is what happens here? This is what we do to them?” _What have they done to Chris?_

“It’s how we learn,” she says quietly, but Zach wonders if that’s shame he can hear in her voice.

“Zoë, this is barbaric!”

“Keep your voice down and keep walking,” she hisses.

“God, we have to find him, I have to get him out of here.”

She turns to him, holding up a stern finger. “Keep your voice down!” she says, her eyes full of anger. “If you want to see him again you need to remember you’re meant to be on our side. Got it? You keep mouthing off like that and you’ll only create a scene which ends with you getting hauled out of here.”

“Okay,” says Zach, duly chastised. He’s thankful when they leave the tortured Vampire, but it only makes him want to find Chris all the more urgently.

Zoë finds a technician who looks Chris up, informing them he’s one of the more special cases, and did they have authorization? Apparently he’s in an exceptionally restricted area, accessed only by the highest of clearance.

Zach feels his empty stomach sink when the tech relays the information that’s obviously flashing on the screen.

“He was incorrectly relinquished. I have his Dominus here. Who authorized his relinquishment?” asks Zoë.

“I have Peter Weller as the authorizing party. You’ll need his approval to access the Acquisition,” says the tech.

“Get Mr Leonard Nimoy on the phone,” says Zach. “He’ll give authority.”

The tech gives him a withering look, but places the call. Zach’s hope is short lived.

“Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate your time.” The tech replaces the phone and looks to Zach. “Mr Nimoy isn’t available.”

“What? No,” says Zach and goes to reach for the phone himself until Zoë grabs his arm in a surprisingly strong hold.

“It’s fine,” she says through her teeth, glaring at him. “We’ll get the authority.” Zach relaxes, giving the tech a surreptitious glance, too ashamed to look at her directly. “Thank you for your help,” says Zoë, and tugs on Zach’s arm to get him moving. But instead of going back out, Zoë leads him past banks of mainframes until she stops at a solitary computer.

She sits in the chair and begins rapidly typing. “Marketing was my major,” she says, her eyes reading the screen, her fingers dancing over the keys. “But I dabbled in computer science, because all that coding shit intrigued me.”

“Oh,” says Zach, surprised to learn something he didn’t know. “Wow, that’s incredibly handy.”

“Peter signed that relinquishment form,” she continues. “That means he wanted Chris. The fact that Chris is in a super restricted area means there’s something about him Peter obviously wants.”

Zach’s pretty sure he knows. “Chris is a few weeks off becoming Rakdanava,” he says. Zoë’s hands stop and he can just about feel her turning to steel.

“Not only was he Rogue, but you were harboring one of the most powerful, not to mention deadliest predators known to our society?” she says, her voice low, but very angry.

“I wouldn’t say harboring; I didn’t know myself until a few weeks before the fight.”

She swipes a hand over her forehead, biting her lip before she swivels to face him in the chair. “Is there anything else I need to know?” she asks. “That’s two strikes Zach, one more and you’re on your own, we clear?”

“Yes,” he says, a little frightened at her intensity. It amazes him how those incredible eyes become weapons of mass destruction with a single look. “I love him Zo, I don’t mean to keep things from you. I just want him back.”

Her eyes soften and for a brief moment he sees the understanding in them before she turns back to the computer and resumes typing.

It takes a while, more than several minutes and when his pacing aggravates her enough, Zoë sends him to keep watch. Though the terminal seems isolated, they hardly need one of the technicians to wander past and see them.

“Got him!” she says after almost an hour. “Okay, I’ve given us a half hour window while the system runs a diagnostic check. The tech was right; Chris is in a seriously restricted area.”

“You don’t have to come, Zo,” says Zach. “If we’re caught it could be jail time.”

“Yeah, but I think he’s done his time, don’t you?” she says with a wink. She brings up an isometric of the facility and shows Zach where Chris is located. He hadn’t realized how far underground the building went until he sees thirty levels in total. Chris is located in the deepest part of the facility.

The descent in the elevator seems to take forever and Zach feels his heart pound harder and harder the further down they go. When the doors eventually open it’s almost as though their back at WOLPh as a long white corridor stretches out in front of them.

“Will you be okay from here, Zach?” she asks.

“Wait. You’re leaving me here?”

 “I need to find Eric, and I want to make sure the diagnostic is still running.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, though he’s apprehensive at being left.

“Come back up when you’re done, meet me in the cafeteria. We’ll see what we can do then.”

Zach nods, steps out of the elevator and heads down the corridor feeling very alone. At first he thinks the corridor is simply that, a passage of white wall until he comes to the outline of a door. Beside it is a small white panel to swipe his pass and above it is a light behind white Perspex to mute its brightness. It’s green, which usually means enter. He swipes his pass, relieved when he hears the door click open and gives it a push. Inside is dark but when he takes a step inside a light instantly comes on illuminating the small room. It’s no more than a prison cell, with blank white walls and floor. There’s a small panel near the floor in the corner, which appears as though things would plug into it.  Otherwise it’s completely empty.

He backs out again and lets the door close. Further down is another door and again its light is green. In fact all the doors have green lights until he reaches the very end, and there above the door the light is red. Red usually indicates occupied.  He holds his breath when he swipes his pass across the panel, almost expecting a siren to start blaring when he does so. But the door clicks open and he slowly pushes against it.

The light is already on, but it’s dimmer than the previous room. Immediately he can see it’s occupied with a humidicrib, and an all too familiar profile lies inside it. He shoves his pass in his pocket and goes straight to it.

Chris looks peaceful. His eyes are closed; his chest rises and falls as he breathes. If it weren’t for the tube in his mouth Zach would be convinced he was just asleep. He sees Chris’s lower lip is slightly puckered where the Vampire’s fangs are pressing into it.

“Chris, oh my Chris,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”  Zach gives a cry, slamming his arms on the lid as he leans over it, shaking his head. “No, no, no,” he whispers, with his eyes misting he hears the slow steady beating of Chris’s heart. Through the blur of tears he sees Chris’s face, and wills the Vampire to open his eyes and fight back. He can’t believe he’d managed to hide himself for so long only to come undone and be subjected to a fate surely worse than permanent death. His hair has been brushed back, and he looks as though he was bathed. He’s wearing a pair of form fitting white boxers, but the rest of him is naked. His hands are by his sides, and Zach swallows the growing lump in his throat when he sees the tube in his arm, just below the elbow. Taped down, it hides the needle that’s inserted into his vein, drawing out his blood colored the deep burgundy red of Vampire blood. The tube in his mouth is also taped down but the blood running through it is much brighter, though still more crimson than scarlet. It’s the animal blood to keep him alive as it slowly drips down into his stomach.

The lid isn’t locked down, and the tubes run through holes in the lower half. Zach carefully lifts it, a shot of something dreadful scoring across his heart when he sees Chris without the plastic shield. He remembers when he’d seen Chris in his wooden coffin the night of the full moon. Though the Vampire had technically been dead, to see him now only brings a deep swallowing sadness. He may have been dead, but at least he was free. Here, though his sleep seems more natural, he’s really a prisoner in a high tech prison.

“Aw, dude,” he says, and gently reaches out, stroking Chris’s upper arm, pleased he can still feel the same cool temperature he’s always had. He places his hand over Chris’s heart, the slow thump, thump against his palm helps, but it can’t relieve the hurt. Carefully he lifts Chris’s arms, one at a time, checking for injuries, or scaring, anything that might be testament to the tortures that are inflicted here. He goes over his legs, thankful there doesn’t appear to be any damage, but it doesn’t rule it out. He can only hope Chris hasn’t been subjected to anything. He strokes his hair and traces his lips, then leans over and kisses Chris’s closed lids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, then gently he touches his lips to Chris’s mouth. Since Chris’s mouth remains closed Zach disregards the danger. “I love you,” he whispers, and kisses him harder, tears forming because Chris can’t respond, but trying to let the Vampire know he’s there.  

He fits the lid back over him, and places his hands on it, reluctant to leave. He stands for a minute, listening to Chris’s heart, trying to figure out how he’s ever going to get him out.

“He’s quite a find.”

Zach turns to see Peter stepping into the room, just as the door clicks shut. “You had no right to take him,” says Zach, unconsciously positioning himself between Peter and Chris.

“I had every right,” says Peter angrily and points a finger at him. “You were harboring a Vampire who not only was Rogue, but was due to become Rakdanava!”

“You have _no_ right; you’re not even a Werewolf, just a petty human. You have no more right than those who don’t even know we exist.”

“I knew you would be a thorn the instant Leonard brought you in. He assured me you would understand our ways and the ways of WOLPh protocol. But in reality you know nothing; you’re not even loyal to your own kind. You don’t even give a shit about the humans you’re meant to be protecting. Your idea of protection is shielding a corpse when you have absolutely no idea the potential danger he poses.”

“Do not call him that!” says Zach, exasperated. “He is not dangerous! How many times do I have to tell everyone how little a threat he is?”

Peter crosses his arms, glaring at Zach with that same infuriating look that Leonard often gave whenever Zach needed to have something ‘Were’ explained to him. “Have you ever seen a Rakdanava?”

“No,” says Zach. “Not that it matters, Chris is very different.”

“You poor pathetic excuse for a Werewolf. Yes, I am human, but I clearly understand and know a hell of a lot more than you do.” He shoves an angry finger towards Chris’s sleeping form again. “ _He_ will become the most powerful of creatures on the entire planet. During his transition his hunger will know no bounds, his drive to eat will be more than anything he’s ever felt and he will not be in any state of mind to control it.”

“He _knew_ that! Fuck, why does everyone think he’s just as naïve as I am? He knew the danger he would become and he meticulously planned to deal with it.”

“Deal with it? I don’t think so. Here’s the safest place for him. We have the means to restrain him and eliminate should the need arise.”

“You’re going to kill him?”

“Hardly. This is an opportunity to further our understanding.”

“So you’ll cut him open like that poor Vampire out there,” says Zach waving a hand towards the door.

Peter makes his way towards Chris, slowly circling around the humidicrib until he’s standing opposite Zach. Zach wants to throw his body across it, childishly claiming it as his. Instead he places a possessive hand on the lid.

“How do you think medical science managed to learn and understand the human body? Before today’s technology came along.”

“I don’t know,” says Zach quietly, hating to admit his lack of knowledge.

“They cut up dead bodies!” Peter announces. “Robbed graves, infiltrated hospitals so they could see firsthand what was going on inside.”

“But we have technology now. Why are you carving up Vampires?”

“We have the technology for humans, but we’re still learning about Vampire physiology,” says Peter smoothly. “And as I’m sure you’re aware, a dead Vampire is little more than a pile of ash, hardly useful for study.”

“Oh my God,” Zach breathes. “We really are the monsters.”

“No, they’re still the stuff of nightmares.”

Zach grips the lid harder, his knuckles going white. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get Chris out and now Peter knows he’s here his chances of freeing Chris are getting close to nil.

“Now, why don’t we go back up and I can give you a proper tour of the facility,” says Peter calmly.

“I’d much rather—” but before he can finish a loud whooping siren blares throughout the complex.

“Attention, attention, all personnel are to evacuate immediately. Please make your way to the nearest exit,” says a prerecorded female voice. The message is repeated after the siren whoops a couple of times.

“We’d best get going,” says Peter but he doesn’t move towards the door.

“I’m not going anywhere,” says Zach. Suddenly a loud hiss sounds and a soft, cool mist begins to cloud the room. A little panicked, Zach wonders if it’s toxic, but when he sees Peter still isn’t moving he manages to remain calm. “What’s this?”

“A combination of refrigerant gases,” says Peter. “It must be a fire. Since the Vampire that are stored here can’t be moved out safely this stops any fire from getting to them. We’ll freeze before he does.” He nods towards Chris.

“You’ll freeze before I do,” says Zach.

“And you’ll freeze before me,” says a voice. Zach turns and there stands Rachel, holding the door open. _Fuck me! How the hell is she up and about when it’s still daylight out?_

 “After you,” says Peter indicating that Zach leave first.

Zach’s hands clench into fists, but there’s no way out of this. With a final glare at Peter, Zach stalks out the door.

“You found him, then?” asks Zoë. They’re sitting in her room, on the small modular lounge chairs. Eric looks between them.

“Yeah, he was there,” says Zach sullenly. They’ve been avoiding the topic all evening. Once Zach had left the storage zone he’d taken himself on a personal tour of the upper laboratories and found more and more atrocities the Weres had been conducting on Vampires. “Now it’s a giant deep freeze. No one can go down there until it thaws.”

“I didn’t think I had a choice Zach,” she says. “I saw Peter go down there and I wasn’t sure what he would do, to either of you. I knew if I set off the alarm Chris would be safe, but I figured Peter would come back and leave you there because he wouldn’t be able to tolerate the colder temperature. I didn’t know Rachel was there.”

“It’s okay,” says Zach. “How long until the ice melts?”

“Usually a couple of days. The Kine can’t freeze, but the systems need the chance to reboot since they’ll be…offline.” She looks to Zach.

“But it’s still too cold for Weres and humans?” asks Zach already trying to think of some way to get Chris out while the systems are down.

“Yes,” she says. “At least for another twelve hours or so.”

“I can get him,” says Eric. Both Weres turn to the Vampire. “The cold won’t affect me. Besides, I kinda owe the guy for what he did at Cerberus that night.”

Zach looks to Zoë. Though he firmly believes Eric is his own person, it’s her call. She looks at Eric with such affection.

“You’d do that?” she asks him.

“Sure,” he says with nonchalance. “Just explain where he is and where you want me to take him.”

Zoë grabs her laptop and instantly begins typing. “Okay, I’ll need to get to another terminal that’s hardwired into the system here, but I think we can get him in,” she says though it’s more to herself than either of the men.

 

Zach has never felt so useless. Pacing as he is in his room, waiting and hoping and praying Eric manages to reach Chris, his phone bouncing lightly in his hand as he jiggles it. Call, call, call! What’s taking so long? The Vampire has been gone almost an hour. He checks the bedside clock for the millionth time. 12:03am. _Jesus, is it even keeping time?_ He feels as though the numbers haven’t even moved in the last twenty minutes since he woke. He managed to sleep, but only for an hour and that was after Zoe threatened to postpone in spite of it being a bluff. Whether she meant it or not, Zach was not about to argue with her.

When his phone does ring he almost leaps out of his skin, only just managing to catch it before it slips from his grasp. It’s Zoë’s number. It stops ringing an instant later and Zach knows it’s time.

He grabs his bag and keys and leaves the room just as he’d found it. Making his way to the car he walks quickly, but doesn’t run, he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself for any reason. The elevator to the upper car park level only takes a few moments, but to Zach it feels like an eternity. He fiddles, swipes a hand over his mouth, looks about him, although the corridor is deserted. When the doors finally open he leaps in, punches the button to the car park, then rapid-fires the button that shuts the doors again. He tries to take a deep breath but finds it shudders in his lungs, almost choking him.

The elevator slows and a computerized voice tells him he’s at the car park level. The doors open with a ding and he sees two people going at each other with their fists. Eric is fighting Rachel.

Zach runs to them, sees Chris’s humidicrib and Zoë in the process of taking out the tubes.

“What happened?” he asks when he reaches her.

“Rachel was guarding Chris. Thankfully Eric’s older, but she’s making him work for it.” She tosses the tubes aside and it’s then Zach sees Chris lying in the humidicrib without the lid, his eyes still closed. The puncture from the needle is still there and he wonders how long it will take for him to heal. “He’ll need blood,” she says, pushing the humidicrib towards Zach’s car. “There’s some in that thermal bag,” she nods at a folded silver bag that’s resting beside Chris in the humidicrib. “Get him awake and get that into him as soon as you can. It won’t last otherwise.”

Zach hears Rachel’s cry of annoyance and turns to see her trying to lunge after them, but Eric yanks her back, her fist connects with his face, but he barely flinches. He grabs her leg, trying to get her on her back, but she flips over instead, catching his jaw with her foot. It’s not the same practiced style of fighting he’s seen Chris use. It looks a lot clumsier, though effective, but neither are managing to gain the upper hand. Zach wonders how Chris became such a good fighter. Age maybe? Or had the Vampire been trained?

“Quick,” says Zoë. “You have to get him out of here.”

“What about you and Eric?” Zach asks emptying the bag of blankets and pillows he’d brought along to stow Chris in the boot. It was the only light-proof place he could think off to get him out of Joshua Tree. He shifts his crossbow case so he can arrange the blankets.

“We’ll be fine, don’t worry, just get him the hell out. We can catch up later when you’re both safe. Call me.” She helps him make a hopefully comfortable enough bed then holds the humidicrib steady while he lifts Chris out.

“No!” screams Rachel and kicks Eric hard in the shin.

“Ah, fuck!” cries Eric, but even so he manages to grab the waistband of her leggings before she reaches them.

Zach carefully lays Chris in the trunk, adjusting the pillow and covering him with a blanket. He strokes his cheek and smiles when he sees Zoë’s look of empathy. She hands him the thermal bag.

“Get out of here, get as far as possible and get him back,” she says then gives Zach a hug. “Stay safe, okay. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but please be safe.”

“Thanks, Zo. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“We’ll be okay,” she says glancing at Eric. “He’s just toying with her really. He’d have ended it a while ago if he wanted, but I think he’s after the exercise.”

“Oh,” says Zach, fairly certain he’s watching the same bloody, nasty fight as Zoë. Both Eric and Rachel look worse for wear, but even if Eric is the stronger, he’s made it a fair enough fight.

He slams the trunk closed, hops into the driver’s seat and with a loud roar the car rumbles to life. One last look back at Zoë, and then Zach squeals out of the car park.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach's not sure of the next stage in his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: past character death, kissing an unconscious person

There’s a sense of calm about the camp as Chris prepares his musket for the pending battle. He can hear the nicker of horses, the jangle of stirrups and the crackle of the fires as the men try to keep warm. The soft murmur of their conversations drifts through the forest, broken by the occasional laugh. Many are in their tents, trying to sleep before the order to advance is given. They have to march to Savannah, coming in from the west where a narrow depression along the edge of the swamp was deemed a suitable way for the troops to move towards the British defenses under the cover of night.

Primed and loaded, Chris rests his rifle against the log on which he’s sitting, listening to the stories the men are telling about their latest sexual conquests: buxom maids taken behind outhouses or in brothels. It’s a common theme before a fight; men facing death prefer one last fuck to worrying about those left behind, or even their comrades.

Chris smiles as he listens to their lewd stories. He wouldn’t mind a bit of release himself as the count down to the push continues. One soldier, a Frenchman, is explaining how big he is when erect, taking great delight in saying how impressed _she_ was until it came to having it inside her. Chris’s French is vastly unpracticed, but he’s able to follow the story, chuckling at the bits he understands. The story finished, he shakes his head at their antics, but it goes with the territory. When you’re about to die you don’t care how you sound, only that you’re heard.

The French commander, Count d’Estaing has proposed a predawn attack. He’s been in talks with General Lincoln and agreed they would take the road leading to Ebenezer, then follow the ditch along the swamp until they reached the Savannah redoubt. 

“I missed you,” says a smooth voice in his ear. Again Chris smiles when he recognizes the voice of his lover, Patrick. It’s well known that a few of the soldiers find comfort with each other, but Chris has been with Patrick for almost a hundred and sixty years. “Come with me.”

Chris stands and turns, but he can’t see him all that well because the shadows obscure Patrick’s face. He’s indicating that Chris follow, and he does, walking past trees and tents until they’re out of earshot from the rest of the camp.

When they first met in England he was a fresh Vampire, barely a year old and living on the scraps of humankind left to disease and despair. Patrick brought him here; to the Americas they had called it. They’d boarded a ship and fed off the crew when they were drunk. It was Patrick who had taught him not to kill, shown him how a little still satisfied, but enabled the donor to live on.

Patrick’s kisses are urgent as he shoves Chris up against a tree, his lips hungry as he makes short work of Chris’s flies, pushing his trousers to his knees. “We don’t have much time,” he whispers, sending a shiver along Chris’s spine. He turns Chris, pushing him hard against the trunk.

Chris grunts, clinging to the tree as Patrick enters him, using spit as lubricant. His own cock responds, hardening quickly in spite of the harsh coupling. Patrick’s breathing hard in his ear as he fucks into him. Chris’s own breath comes out in huffs as Patrick drives it from him with every thrust. He remembers when they first made love, realizing they were more than friends and regarded each other with a deeper affection. Chris had been a virgin and still remembers the beautiful pain of that night together. From that moment on he knew he would follow Patrick anywhere, even into battle.

Patrick reaches around and begins jerking Chris’s cock; his hand is dry but Chris is already leaking. He groans, flexing into Patrick’s hand as Patrick pushes into him, each just as eager to convey their desperate need.

“Stay close to me,” says Patrick, gripping Chris’s face with his other hand as he mouths at Chris’s jaw. “Don’t lose sight of me, watch my back and we’ll make it through this one as well.”

“Stay close,” Chris repeats with a grunt, “Watch your back.”

“Mm, yes,” breathes Patrick. His pace increases and Chris has to bite down to stop himself from crying out. Splinters of pain spike inside, but he refuses to stop Patrick from finishing. Though he hates to dwell on it, he’s never certain if the next battle will be their last. “Oh God,” Patrick murmurs and Chris feels him come, throbbing deeply though he continues to jack at Chris’s dick until he’s coming, and shooting over the tree bark.

They kiss again, a final expression of passion before they rejoin their confederates and ready themselves for the push. Chris redoes his flies, remembering he’s left his musket back at the fire. Patrick bends to retrieve his own and it’s then Chris sees him clearly.

“Zach?”

“Remember to stay close,” says Zach, and with a quick final kiss he heads back to camp.

A thick fog settles over the land like a white sheet over a cadaver. Sounds seem distant, and Chris has trouble keeping Zach in his eye line. He thought all the Weres were fighting for the British.

He reclaims his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder as the men put out the fires and assemble, but orders are delayed and there’s confusion as to when they’ll push forward.

Chris senses dawn approaching and sees it with the lightening of the dense fog. Grey brightens to white and he knows he needs to find Zach and warn him they must find shelter from the sun.

“Zach?” he calls.

Zach appears at his shoulder, his hair slick with the damp fog, and his eyes wide in anticipation. “Come,” he says, tugging at Chris’s sleeve. He takes Chris to the shadows of the trees where they can safely wait until the order is given, or the sun comes up and they’ll be forced to retreat to darker shadows.

Chris can’t see the sunrise with the fog, but it doesn’t matter as the order to advance is announced and with a roar the men surge forward. Chris joins them, shouting at the top of his lungs as he follows Zach’s back. A swirl of fog separates them and Chris loses him. He sees the top of his head again, but the fog shifts and again Zach is gone.

“Zach!” he calls, but the cheering crowd drowns his shout and he stops, trying to see between the drifts of moisture-laden air. “Zach!”

Musket fire replaces the roar and Chris, now walking forward, soon comes to the edge of the forest. The fog clears as the sun burns it away and he can see the battlements, the Spring Hill redoubt rising from the ground like a great monolith. The ground is littered with the bodies of his comrades. The white coats of the French and red of the Americans pattern the field like a macabre quilt. Many men are wounded, crying out for assistance as they slowly bleed out from their wounds. The abatis that surrounds the redoubt had impaled many in their attempt to storm the fort, unseen in the fog.

Then he sees him, the sharpened tip of a tree branch extending from his back, covered in his blood.

“Oh God, Zach!” Chris cries, but he can’t run forward, the sun has risen too high, and the field is awash with daylight. Zach moves, but as he does Chris sees it’s not Zach, it’s Patrick, moving slowly, his limbs trembling as he realizes what’s happened. The branch has missed his heart, extending his death as his blood pours from the wound. He knows his fate has come. “Patrick!” shouts Chris, “I’m sorry!”

He doesn’t know if Patrick hears him and with tears in his eyes he watches as his friend, mentor and lover, staring at his own blood soaked hands succumbs to the sun and begins to burn. His screams are cut short as his body disintegrates into a cloud of ash.

The sun is now a threat to Chris; he can feel its heat rippling through the shade of the forest. Many from his battalion are in retreat as the failed siege collapses, and men begin running for their lives. Reluctantly, Chris turns and runs into the denser part of the forest knowing his only hope is to find shelter from the sun. Whatever orders his superiors have issued no longer matter as he runs through the trees, avoiding pockets of sunlight filtering through the canopy. The men are in complete disarray, dispersing through the woods in their flight for survival.

Chris locates an outcrop, a rocky formation that will keep him safe until evening. He covers himself in fallen leaves and branches, enough to give the impression of natural forest floor.

He wakes to find the forest deserted, his comrades gone. The moist night air smells of ash and blood and he clambers out from his hidey-hole, his hair and uniform damp. He wanders back carefully to the fort, staying on the fringes of the forest; the dead and wounded have been retrieved. The British are recovering from the battle, they have casualties too, but Chris doesn’t think they were hit as hard.

He sits at the base of a tree, staring at the abatis, the reason for his loss, and tries to summon Patrick’s face. Instead, his mind is conjuring up another, his features sharp, his gaze intense. The memory brings with it a feeling of joy and contentment and he thinks it odd that such a face would enable him to feel that way again, given the abrupt loss of love.

“Who are you?” he says to no one.

“My successor, it would seem.”

Chris turns and sees Patrick sitting beside him. His death forgotten, Chris is elated to see him alive, but his image is fractured, as though Chris is looking at him through an imperfect sheet of glass.

“Successor?” Chris asks, confused.

“You do realize he’s Were?” says Patrick.

“Yes,” says Chris. “Why should that matter?”

Patrick smiles. “It doesn’t.”

“Something terrible happened, something nasty. I can feel it inside me but I don’t know why.”

“Was it something you did?” asks Patrick.

Chris tries to think, but the only thing he can recall is the bloodied battle, the cries and screams of men he never really knew but wished he had. “I let you die,” he says.

“No, that wasn’t you, the grief you carry isn’t for me anymore. At least it shouldn’t be.”

“I feel responsible -”

“Enough,” says Patrick sternly, but his eyes are kind, like they always were even during the harshest of lessons. “This grief is too raw for it to be me.”

Chris searches; snapshots of memory zip past like a series of slides going too fast. He can feel the emotion building in his chest and suddenly, like a blast of cannon fire, he remembers why he feels so wretched.

“We fought,” he says softly. “He called me something dreadful, threatened me with torture.”

Patrick nods in understanding and Chris wishes he could touch him. “Was it just to be cruel to you? Why were you fighting?”

 “I…” Chris takes a breath, looks at the ground while his thinks about what triggered the argument before looking back to Patrick’s wavering form. “He was angry that I used my saliva to alter his memories.”

“Did he have a right to be angry?”

“He didn’t have a right to call me what he did!” Chris barks.

“No, he didn’t, so why do you think he did?”

His eyes ache as tears begin to well, blurring the image of Patrick even further. He wipes them away and barely manages to stifle the sob in his throat as he takes a shuddering breath.

“To be nasty and mean; to hurt my feelings.”

“Do you think he wanted you to hurt as much as he was hurting?” Patrick’s calm reasoning is starting to make sense.

“I guess, but that’s no excuse,” says Chris.

“And what excuse do you have for drugging him? Think about it,” says Patrick. “You’re out cold and then someone slips you a drug that will make swiss cheese of your mind.”

“Oh, my God,” Chris breathes, startled by Patrick’s candid explanation. “But you told me it was a good thing, that we were stopping our donors from being frightened.”

“Chris, why do you think we drugged them?”

“So they wouldn’t be afraid, and for our protection.”

“That’s right, our protection. Do you think Zach needed that protection? He knew about Vampire already.”

“He was badly beaten, I was trying to—”

“Protect him, I know,” says Patrick. “But did he really _need_ protecting in that way?”

“I—” Chris stalls, he’s so unsure now, but he’s relieved that Patrick is once again in the role of mentor, giving advice and counseling him. “I don’t know.”

“You need to trust him a little more and let him learn from his own experiences. What do you expect him to do when you’re not there?”

The thought alone is painful enough; he doesn’t like the idea of leaving Zach at all. “He’ll die,” he says as though the answer is obvious.

“Will he? Or will he learn that to protect himself he needs to understand his enemy?”

“We’re not the enemy!” says Chris defensively.

“No, but there are few humans that can take down a Were. He has a strength he’s yet to realize; he’s only just now beginning to understand his own species, let alone ours.”

“He knows his strength. He used it to put me here.”

“You think so? Is he really capable of such brutality?”

Chris recalls how Zach plays with Noah and strokes Harold. But when it leads to how sweetly he would sometimes touch his own body, Chris shudders and quickly shuts the memory down. “He said he could!”

Patrick shakes his head, his face distorts with his shifting image. “Perhaps, but you already know the answer. I think you know him far better than you realize.”

Does he, though? Would Zach be truly capable of carrying out such a vile threat? Chris hugs his knees to his chest. “I miss you, Patrick,” he says.

“I miss you too, pet, but you may as well be the dead one. He’s encouraged the first sign of life within you, produced a spark that’s given you something to fight for.”

“He’s pushing you out. How can I let you go?”

“You need to trust him. If he truly loves you he will accept everything about you, even the darkness you refuse to shed light on. You might find you’re able to accept yourself a little more too.”

He feels the tears scorch his cheeks and thinks it’s odd they don’t feel cold. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive Chris. You didn’t let me down or abandon me, you simply lived. Once you accept that, you can let me go.”

Chris looks away, desperate to hang on, but wishing he could just as easily let go. When he looks back again, Patrick’s gone. “No, Patrick, wait!” he cries, but he is alone in the forest.

“Chris.”

“Patrick? Where are you, where did you go?”

“Chris, can you hear me?”

“Patrick?” he stands, trying to gauge where the voice is coming from.

“Chris, come on buddy, that’s it, open your eyes.” It’s getting louder.

Wait. “Zach?”

“Open your eyes, Chris,” says Zach, his voice again clearer as if he’s right there.

“Zach?”

“I’m here, I’m right here. Come on, I need you to open your eyes.”

 

The Mustang hurtles along chewed up old desert roads, a sleek menacing car with the horsepower to see it eat up the miles. Unfamiliar with his location, Zach’s relying on the road signs, and the GPS. He’s figures he’ll make it to Las Vegas and work out from there how he’s going to get a comatose Vampire across the country to Pittsburgh. Right now all he wants is sleep since it’s been almost 24 hours since he had any.

Dawn blooms across the desert in a glorious rising of light and color. In spite of the dusty gray ground and scrubby bushes the mesmerizing display paints across the landscape in oranges, reds and golds with the contrasting brilliant blue of the sky. The GPS directs him onto even more beaten up, patchy roads, but the rocky hills in the distance never seem to get any closer. 

His cell phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Zoë, he puts it to speaker so he can keep driving. “Zach, here,” he answers.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” demands Peter.

Oh shit! “Driving,” says Zach. _Play it cool Quinto._

“You think you can stroll in and take something that doesn’t belong to you?”

Nervous, Zach presses the accelerator a little harder, just a few clicks over the limit, nothing that will warrant him being stopped, but enough to get them as far away from Joshua Tree as possible.

“Technically he’s my Imus, so I’m only taking what’s mine. I never signed his Relinquishment. And quite frankly, he’s his own person, and he deserves to be free.”

“This is the kind of bullshit I knew would happen. The moment that old fucker brought up your name, I just _knew_ you would be an affliction to WOLPh’s smooth running. You’d never have understood the sacrifices made to keep us going,” says Peter.

“You’re using Vampires, taking their blood without their consent. It’s no different to what we believe they do, so how does it make us better than them?”

“None of that matters. All I want is the Rakdanava.”

“Good luck finding us,” says Zach, his finger poised to disconnect the call.

“I don’t need luck,” says Peter.

The cold chill that spills down Zach’s spine has him looking in the rear view mirror. A large black car is right on his ass. Its plates read BITE ME.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs.

“Bring him back to Joshua Tree and you might get away with just being fired instead of facing criminal charges.”

Zach looks down the road and sees acres and acres of sandy gray soil and scrubby bushes. Until they reach Las Vegas he has no other option but to race across the desert. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Whatever you’re considering doing to me, he’s totally worth it.”

He hears Peter curse, and thinks the sound that follows is him thumping the steering wheel in rapid succession. “You don’t know what you’re doing!” he shouts. “Bring it back!”

“Never,” Zach says and disconnects the call.

Not long after his phone begins vibrating and he almost doesn’t answer given he already knows who’s calling. He connects but doesn’t speak.

“Zach?” It’s Leonard. The old man sounds tired, as though defeated. This is Zach’s final strike, it has to be, there’s no redemption for this course of action. “Zach, please. What do you think you’ll accomplish by doing this?”

“I won’t let him be subjected to that kind of torture. He’s a person in his own right regardless of his species.”

“I can tell you’re upset, but I’m sure we can reach a compromise. You can choose another Kine, any one you like.”

“I’ve already chosen, Leonard, and I don’t think I’m welcome at WOLPh any more.” He’s almost shocked by the fact that even though he’s taken Chris, Leonard still seems willing to give him yet another chance.

“Zach, son, please. This isn’t you. What’s got into you to make you behave so recklessly?” In his agitation his foot has pressed the accelerator and the Mustang is flying over the dusty roads. He’s not sure of the law’s presence out here, but he eases up, the last thing he needs is a ticket, or worse, his car impounded.

“A sense of decency,” he says. “A basic understanding of right and wrong.”

“They are a threat!” shouts Leonard. “How else do we learn about our one true enemy?”

“They are no more a threat than we are!” Zach fires back. “We’re torturing creatures to find out how they can be of benefit to _us_. Slicing and dicing without mercy to ensure Were society remains at the top.”

“To the benefit of humans!” Leonard counters. “We’re curing previously untreatable illnesses, finding new ways to stave off diseases that have hindered the human species since the dawn of time! There is no greater ethical standard than what we do!”

“What about basic rights? We’re the evil of this society, we’re the ones who should be feared, not Vampire. Our principles are steeped in barbaric practice and immoral privilege! We prey on them, enslave them and torture them like rats.” He feels flushed even though the outside temperate is only just above 12 degrees. He jerks the wheel around a sharp turn, and the back wheels skim over the asphalt, but he brings it around, again stomping on the gas when it’s once again steady.

“John would be so ashamed,” says Leonard quietly. “I knew you would understand our means, but I never imagined you wouldn’t agree with them. Margot—”

“Don’t you dare drag my mother into this,” Zach hisses. “She did the best she could with a houseful of Werewolves and only her morals to go on. I’m _relieved_ she taught me so well.”

“Zach.” The older man’s voice seems so distant and Zach can hear the loss in the utterance of his name. “Zach, please turn around and come home, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t,” says Zach calming a little. “I’m done with WOLPh, sir. Consider this my resignation.”

“Wait, Zach—no, please son, he’s dangerous,” says Leonard his voice desperate. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“He’s no more dangerous that we are,” he says. “If only you could see that. You told me once you wouldn’t disrupt a relationship that worked, no matter how unorthodox.” He doesn’t think his reference to Peter and Rachel’s partnership will make much difference, but it feels good to throw something of substance.

“That was under completely different circumstances,” says Leonard, his voice rising again, upset that his words are being used against him. “Rachel isn’t about to turn Rakdanava! I insist that you return to LA immediately.”

“I’m not my father Leonard, I never was and I never will be,” says Zach with finality. “I know you wanted me to be him, but I’m not sorry to disappoint you. The man was a monster who treated people like Chris maliciously and with contempt regardless of who they were as a person.” He glances at the rear view; the black car is still there. “Nor am I your son. Whatever allegiance you thought you had with my family, died with him.”

“Za -!” But Zach disconnects.

The phone vibrates again. Zach presses the button, but as before doesn’t speak.

“Looks like it’s down to you and me,” says Peter.

“For now,” says Zach hoping he does manage to lose him in Vegas, if not beforehand. He’s glad he decided to refuel prior to entering the Joshua Tree car park.

“I really don’t give a shit where _you_ go; all I want is the corpse in your trunk.”

“No sale,” says Zach. “I’m sitting on a full tank, and I don’t intend to stop until I absolutely have to. How’s your fuel situation?”

The silence reassuring, he disconnects the call, and pulls hard on the wheel as he turns off Kelbaker Road and onto Kelso Cima, bouncing over the train tracks with speed. He races past an abandoned post office, driving adjacent to the tracks before the road curves around and scraggly trees grow alongside the scrubby brushes.

He flexes his neck and blinks a few times in an effort to keep awake. The sun has risen fully and reflects off the grey ground, turning the desert into an enormous solar panel. He hopes Chris will be okay with the heat. As it is, he’s not even sure how long it will take the Vampire to recover.

At the speed he’s going he could be pulled over, and an unconscious body in the trunk will make for some very interesting questions indeed, but with Peter right behind him, he doesn’t want to give any ground and so stays as he is, racing along the crumbling, pot hole ridden road in his prized Mustang.

On the third yawn in a row Zach knows he’s in danger of falling asleep behind the wheel. He wishes he’d thought to bring along coffee, food, anything since his stomach is aching and his mouth is about as dry as outside. He gives the rear view mirror a quick glance, thankful to see he’s quite alone on the aging road.

It’s nice when the computerized voice of the GPS comes to life to tell him a turn is coming up. The monotony of driving in the same level landscape where nothing seems to change: the road, the ground, the brittle looking bushes and tufts of grass, everything looks bland.

Turning onto the I-15 highway is perhaps the most exciting part of the journey. It gives him a sense of having traversed the desert and put a decent amount of distance between the car and the Joshua Tree facility. There’s more traffic on the interstate, which also gives buoyancy to his flagging energy; trucks and cars all speeding along towards Las Vegas.

He begins to think the desert will continue forever when a shimmer on the horizon forms into a tall building and shopping mall: the Nevada border. The tall building on his left is a casino called Whiskey Pete’s. To the right is the shopping complex, complete with amusement park as he sees the tracks for the rollercoaster. Civilization, however, doesn’t last long. As he crosses the border, the desert returns in all its scrubby grassed desolation. He could be in some sort of strange time continuum as the road stretches on for miles and miles with no end, just a hazy shimmer at the horizon.

When he sees his first billboard he thinks he’s seeing things, but soon more and more appear advertising beauty products, hotels and resorts, and of course, casinos. More cars suddenly appear on the road, though he has no idea where they came from, and eventually the city presents itself as tall white, and glass buildings emerge along the roadside.

Zach pulls into a gas station, thankful he can finally stretch his legs. He goes to the trunk, wishing he could open it to check on Chris, but it’s too bright and he certainly hasn’t come all this way just to endanger him again.

He pays for the gas and buys himself a soda and sandwich, then pulls into the car park designated for customers not needing to fill up. Zach hadn’t realiz3ed how hungry he was and scarfs down the food.

He cruises Las Vegas, trying to decide on a hotel so he can get some much-needed sleep. Vegas prices can be notoriously high, but there’s plenty of competition. He locates a less conspicuous option, but before he pulls into the car park he suddenly realizes he will have to leave Chris in the trunk.  He keeps driving and instead pulls into the underground parking area of a gigantic shopping complex. He finds the farthest, darkest corner, shuts everything off and moves into the back seat. Though it’s not exactly the bed of a five star hotel Zach’s too exhausted to care and is asleep in moments.

Hours later, Zach wakes feeling musty and disheveled. He tries slicking his mouth with his tongue, but it’s dry and tacky. He sits up, scratches at his stubble and runs his hands through his hair a few times while the rest of his body wakes.  The car park is no more or less occupied than when he drove down here, but he decides to chance it and drives closer to the entrance, eager to find coffee and somewhere to relieve himself.

Armed with breakfast, even though it’s closer to evening, and the biggest coffee he could buy, Zach places everything in the car, but before he gets in himself he does a quick scan to see that no one’s watching, then goes to the trunk and pops it open.

Chris hasn’t moved, which is disappointing because Zach had hoped the Vampire might wake. He brushes a stray lock of hair from his face, checks the pillow and blankets to ensure Chris’s comfort and really hopes the time in a car trunk is comfortable, regardless of his comatose state.

“Please wake up.” When no answer is forthcoming Zach sighs, closes the trunk and slides into the driver’s seat. “Jesus Christ, what the hell am I doing?”

He sips his coffee and goes through the box of all the pieces concerning Chris’s mine that he’d gathered from the storage locker. There’s a photo of the entrance; wooden beams framing the dark tunnel and long abandoned tracks where the silver was brought to the surface. He wonders what Chris did to make it more comfortable, or is it just a hole in the ground.

Then something in the picture catches his eye, a curl of wire sticking out from the corner of the entrance. When Zach looks closer he can see the wire is embedded in something that looks a lot like plastic explosive. He knew Chris planned to blow the entrance to ensure he couldn’t escape easily. Did he plan to light the fuses? The coil of wire trails back into the entrance so Zach can’t see the end of it. It would be dangerous to light fuses and run into a mine, hoping they didn’t burn out. Besides, wouldn’t it be easier to have them all hooked up a certain way so the explosion is more controlled? Otherwise the entire hillside could sheer away leaving Chris just as exposed.

Zach flips through more of the papers, scanning the lists and checking the diagrams. Chris had carefully mapped out where the explosives would go and there’s even a diagram of where all the wires are located. They all seem to go to the one location. It’s on this particular piece of paper that Zach sees a series of numbers. Something seems to click and Zach searches for Chris’s phone. Thankful he charged it at Joshua Tree, he scrolls through the directory and sees the same number logged as a contact. So it’s a cell phone number that triggers it.

He pulls out of the car park and decides to chance it at a hotel. He’d like more sleep, a shower and a decent meal. And since it’s dark he can hopefully get Chris out of the trunk for a while and maybe even try waking him. He goes back to the small motel he’d seen earlier, but just as he’s waiting to turn in he glances in the rear view.  The same black Cadillac has been following him since the shopping car park. Again he avoids pulling into the motel, and takes the next turn. Sure enough, the Cadillac follows. In fact each turn he makes, the Cadillac is right there, keeping its distance, but it’s definitely following him.

“Change of plan,” says Zach to himself and thinks perhaps he can lose it given the size of Vegas, including the outer suburbs. But just as he’s about to exit the main road and disappear onto a smaller side street, another black Cadillac pulls up alongside him, cutting off his escape. “Two?” He tries to glance into the window, but they are blacked out, giving no visibility as to who’s driving.

Zach grips the wheel harder. Allies. He has little doubt WOLPh has allies and Weres tend to help each other when the price is right. He swerves two lanes over, but the Cadillac follows, as does the one on his tail. They pass the Flamingo, a grand hotel with a large orange and pink flower design on the roof that’s lit up like an elaborate firework. Caesar’s Palace comes up on the left; Zach can see the glowing red sign between the enormous green palm trees. As he passes the replica of the Colosseum an idea strikes him. They won’t let him go until he runs out of fuel. There’s no other choice.

Zach floors the accelerator, yanks on the wheel and manages to overtake the Cadillac before turning left onto the I-15 highway. He punches in a new destination into the GPS, since it’s one of the more pricey brands that accepts coordinates, and scoots onto the US-95. The mountains in the distance are deep purple and he flicks on his headlights as the sun dips behind them. It isn’t long before he’s driving past residential housing, but it soon thins out as the highway carries him away from the city towards the desert. He goes under a white stone bridge and it looks as though Las Vegas never was, as the desert stretches out, wide and dark before him. Both Cadillacs are still with him but he tears along the highway, passing a sign that says Tonopah 192.

Night in the desert is as oppressive as a thick, heavy blanket. For a few meters he can see in front of him, but the rest is a black void. The two Cadillacs are keeping their distance, but as they’re all on the highway, with no other route there’s little choice but to continue.

Zach sees a blurred sign pointing down a worn-looking dirt track. Rounding a bend he again thinks he’s seeing things until the first houses appear, then the more commercial looking structures until the lights show that he’s reached the small desert town. It almost looks deserted and though he’s not normally so reckless, he keeps his speed, flies through the main street until the voice on his GPS politely tells him to take the next right. Asphalt gives way to dirt and Zach winces as he hears stones flick up and hit the car, knowing it’ll leave chips in the paintwork.

The Cadillacs, being longer and larger, are suffering a little more on the rough road, bouncing along into ditches and dips as they try to keep up with Zach. The road eventually becomes nothing more than a track and that soon disappears as he follows the GPS. The stones become rocks and he grimaces each time they bash the underside of the car along with thick tussocks of grass. He loops around a hill, along a wide ditch, and up the other side, kicking up clouds of dust that the Cadillac headlights shine through. He skirts a rocky cliff and just as he’s about to shoot past it, he sees a wide opening, timber beams outlining the entrance to an abandoned mine. The GPS is telling him he’s reached his destination, so with renewed determination he floors the accelerator, grits his teeth and speeds directly into it. Grateful for Chris’s photographs of the mine he sees the explosives packed into crevices. His headlights show the tunnel as a large black cavern and he bites his lip when the occasional outcrop of rock catches the sides of the car.

There’s no way the Cadillacs will fit, but he ensures there’s enough distance between the Mustang and the entrance before he picks up Chris’s cell phone and selects a pre-saved number. Headlights come into view, bouncing over the rough terrain in pursuit. Zach takes a deep breath, tries not to consider what he’s about to do, and presses the call button.

A pause, like the time between heartbeats, seems to last forever until the first explosion blasts through the mine. Then one after another, in a timed sequence to ensure the entire mine collapses as planned, the charges explode, depositing tons of rock and dirt into the mine’s entrance. Zach crouches over the steering wheel, covering his ears and head with his arms as the blast resonates through the tunnel, rocking the car and covering everything in dust.

It feels like forever, but only lasts a few moments. Once settled, he looks in the rear view and by the red of his tail lights he sees a great pile of rock. He sits back in his seat, pushing hands though his hair as he lets out a puff of air. Time to make use of Chris’s bunker.

The width of the tunnel won’t allow him to get out through the door, so Zach grabs the emergency flashlight from under his seat and manages to haul himself up through the sunroof, with little room to spare as the roof of the mine isn’t much taller than himself. He slides down the back of the car, over the trunk until his boots hit the ground. The air is stale, and there’s a chill like being in a cave, but without the usual moisture.

Zach carefully opens the trunk, his heart squeezing when he sees Chris still under the blanket. In spite of what he is, he seems so incredibly vulnerable with his naked shoulder giving hint as to what lies beneath. Zach reaches out and gently strokes the exposed skin, comforted by the fact that it’s cool. The Vampire’s heartbeat is still strong and he strokes his hair, but stops when he again sees the slight indentation in Chris’s bottom lip.

Curious, Zach carefully lifts the Vampire’s top lip with his thumb and sees Chris’s fangs in all their savage glory. He traces the tooth, testing the tip and gasps when only the slightest pressure sees the tip of his finger punctured.

“Jesus,” he murmurs. “You lot are lethal.” He sucks on his finger to ease the sting, wondering how long it will be before Chris wakes. He’s not even sure if the blood Zoë gave him is any good.

Just as he did at Joshua Tree, Zach leans forward and carefully touches his lips to Chris’s, though the Vampire doesn’t respond. After a moment he presses his forehead to him, trying to establish a connection. Chris’s body has been traumatized; sapped of his own unique blood in spite of being fed a miniscule trickle of animal blood. It makes Zach consider that Chris actually needs healing rather than being forced awake. And he knows the Vampire heals faster when he’s fed.

He braces himself when he straightens and clutches his wrist to force his hand against the sharpest thing he has available – Chris’s teeth. He runs his palm across the tip of the fang, yelping as it cuts into his hand. His blood flows directly into Chris’s mouth, dripping over his tongue and teeth. Chris’s breathing changes, and Zach can hear his heartbeat increase. He makes a fist, squeezing more of his blood into Chris’s mouth before he sees the Vampire’s eyes move beneath the lids. Clenching his hand to stave off the flow, Zach strokes Chris’s hair with his other hand.

Zach immediately steps back when Chris’s body suddenly goes rigid, his back flexing like an archer’s bow, his arms jerking as his hands push against the sides of the trunk as though searching. His mouth is open wide, his fangs protruding, glistening dangerously in the flashlight.

“Chris?” Zach calls beginning to panic while he watches Chris struggle, as though something inside is fighting. “Chris, can you hear me?”

 

Chris’s eyes flash open. There’s a bright light enclosed in darkness and he feels a great rushing streak run through his body, as though his life was poured back into it. He takes a gasping breath, pushing back from the light hissing, fangs bared, as his first instinct is to hide from sunlight.

“Okay, whoa, easy there. It’s okay, it’s alright, you’re alright.”

“Zach, Zach!” Chris calls, blinking madly as he tries to focus, but his surroundings are unfamiliar. He reaches out, fingers clutching, and instantly feels Zach’s warmth before the Were grabs hold of him, folding him into his arms where he begins to shake uncontrollably.

“Easy now, easy,” soothes Zach, stroking Chris’s hair and squeezing him close.

“Oh God,” Chris gasps. Through the blur he can make out walls of rock, and as he looks around he sees he’s wearing a pair of white shorts and sitting on a pile of blankets in the trunk of Zach’s Mustang. Disjointed memories flash through his mind, bits of conversation, threats and words and shouting. _I’m almost five hundred years old! No, Anton, no! Chris I’m sorry! Thank you for cooperating. You fucking corpse! I want you gone! One call and I could have you put away…_ Chris pulls away sharply, shoving Zach in the process. “Fuck,” he mutters, stumbling backward as his knees buckle and the back of his head hits the underside of the trunk.

“Chris? Are you okay?” asks Zach, his voice tentative.

“What the fuck happened?” says Chris gruffly. His mouth feels dry and his body feels as though everything has been replaced with rubber.

“You don’t remember?” the Were asks quietly. “You were made Kine.”

_One call and I could have you put away…_

Chris tries to clear his head of all the raging voices. The light is too bright. He can see Zach’s holding a flashlight. “How long?”

“A few weeks.” Zach steps closer but the movement makes Chris crouch back. “They sent you to Joshua Tree.” Chris coughs, tries to shift, but his legs are still refusing to function properly. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I think so, considering…” Chris croaks, his voice doing its best to make sounds. He has visions of Patrick swirling in his mind, but the deep, dark ache hasn’t deteriorated in the slightest. He tries to orientate himself, clinging to the edge of the trunk, shifting again in an attempt to get his legs moving. He accidently kicks a cold metal case. He knows what it holds, Zach’s crossbow, since he’s seen it in Zach’s apartment. So the asshole came prepared.

Zach again steps forward, arms held out to help, but Chris jerks back, glaring as he awkwardly climbs out. His legs are shaky, and his arms aren’t much better, but damned if he’s going to let the bastard help.

“Where are we?” he asks, continuing to blink in an effort to gain his full Vampire vision back.

“The mine,” says Zach.

“The mine? As in _my_ mine?”

“Yeah, we were being followed, so I drove here to try and escape.”

“You said I was under for a few weeks. Is it almost February sixteen?”

“No, not yet,” says Zach and Chris sees him flinch when he stares at him. “I didn’t know where else to go!”

_Fuck!_ All his meticulous planning reduced to a pile of rubble. “Fine then, what now?”

“I didn’t plan that far ahead, I needed to get you away and safe and this seemed the best location at the time.”

Chris grips the car, tests his legs, they seem to be up to the idea of orders again, so he lets go. A slight wobble, but he’s mostly back in control. “We don’t need to stay here, we can move further in.”

“I’ve got clothes for you and some blood, but I’m not sure how good it is. I brought it from Joshua Tree.” He leans into the trunk and hauls out a duffel bag.  The Were sounds worried and unsure. Good. “We’ll have to climb over the car. You go first, I’ll get the stuff,” he says, handing the bag to Chris.

Chris pulls on jeans, t-shirt and his favorite pair of boots, and tosses the bag back into the trunk. Zach then hands him a thermal bag.

“Origin?”

“Zoë got it for you. I really don’t know.”

In spite of his convictions, Chris is in no position to refuse it. His body is in dire need of fresh blood and since this is all that’s available he knows he’ll just have to chance it. Since WOLPh gave its Imus expired blood, they’re hardly going to supply the good stuff to a bunch of prisoners.

The blood is warm and on the brink, but he’s too hungry and downs it, flinching slightly as the flavor is close to turning rancid. He’s thankful to have something, but it’s nowhere near enough to bring him fully back.

“If we were chased, do you think your friends will hang around?” he asks.

“I’m hoping they think we’re dead. Worst case is they’ll call for back up to see if you survived, they might stay in the town, but they’re Vegas Wolves, they mightn’t think it’s their problem to dig you out.”

Chris nods. Wolves may form an alliance, but their first and foremost allegiance is to their own. “Peter?”

“I think he’ll try to recover you. I’ve never seen anyone so determined.”

“Me either.”

They climb over the Mustang, and Chris sees the damage to the side panels. He grabs a lantern perched in a niche cut into the wall and lights it. Though unnecessary for himself, he found it comforting to have light when he was working here. Since Zach’s eyesight is no different to a regular human, he’s blind without it. Even if he were Wolf he’d be completely blind as he would need some sort of light to refract off his retina. With a brighter light source, Zach switches off his flashlight to conserve its battery.

“This way,” says Chris, holding up the lantern and leading Zach further along the tunnel. They reach a large pit, a shaft that appears as a large black hole. Chris turns, placing the lantern on the ledge before he begins descending a small ladder. He gathers up the lantern, and notices the Were looks a little pale. “It’s a little more comfortable than staying up here with nothing but rocks and a beat up car.” He tries to gather his thoughts during the descent, annoyed his memories are punched full of holes. And the one thing that won’t leave him alone is the nagging thought that this whole ordeal was instigated by Zach. But would Zach have gone to the trouble of finding him, if he’d wanted him to be made Kine?

He steps off the last rung and flicks on a switch before dimming the lantern. The shaft opens up into a large cavern illuminated brightly by the wattage of several bulbs hanging naked around the ceiling. There are cupboards and shelves full of books, a small gas stove in one corner, and great big bottles of water are stacked against the opposite wall.

“Oh wow, you have power down here?” says Zach when he steps down into the cavern.

“Solar,” says Chris. “Since it’s the one thing above ground has a lot of I figured it may as well go to good use.”

“But you can see in the dark,” says Zach, looking around curiously.

“Yeah, but it’s nicer with light, otherwise it gets a bit depressing. I don’t get to see sunlight; it’s nice to have _some_ light in my life.”

The last line comes out a little sarcastic and Chris sees Zach flinch.

“What’s the water for?” asks Zach, pointing and Chris thinks the Were is trying to avoid any conflict.

“We’re surrounded by dirt,” says Chris although he’s trying to keep the exasperated tone out of his voice.  “I do care a bit about personal hygiene. I can heat it up and take a bath.” To emphasize his point he indicates the large, old fashioned metal tub, currently full of blankets.

“Blankets?”

“Comfort,” says Chris beginning to sound incredulous, manners be damned. “Vampire I may be, but I don’t have to live like a fucking animal.”

“No, no, of course not,” says Zach, turning away.

Chris watches him as he scratches the back of his neck, the movement awkward as the Were seems unsure and wary. He’s looking over things, sliding a finger across a cupboard door, assessing how the lighting is hooked up across the ceiling and even goes to look at the water. All the time Chris just watches. And waits.

“It’s quite a set up,” says Zach after several moments of loaded silence.

“I know,” says Chris. He looks away and goes to the chair, carefully lowering himself into it. The blood Zach had given him has been useless in helping him heal, so he doesn’t fully trust his legs. “Took me long enough to get it sorted.” He hears the scrape of Zach’s shoes as the Were turns to him.

“You’re blaming me for this?” Zach asks.

“There’s a lot I blame you for Zach, but let’s put prematurely blowing up my Rakdanava safe-hold in the ‘Maybe’ pile.”

“Chris, I had no choice!” says Zach. Chris doesn’t look up, but he can see the Were’s legs in front of him. “I just knew I had to get you out and I thought we’d be safe in Vegas, but then these other Wolves showed up and it was all I could think of.”

The second Chris looks up he wishes he hadn’t. Zach’s face is so morose, his brows drawn, creasing his forehead. His mouth is open slightly before it momentarily closes while he swallows. But it’s his eyes that make Chris’s heart falter and he has to look away again.

Zach crouches and goes to touch Chris’s arms, but Chris yanks them back. The Were stands again and takes a step back.

“I saved you,” he says quietly. Chris feels the nasty burn in his throat swell. No matter how many times he tries he can’t swallow it down. “Was I wrong to?”

“No,” says Chris, sullen. He’s grateful to Zach, but so much damage has been done. And what if Zach only brought him out because he felt so guilty for putting him there in the first place? _One call and I could have you put away…_

“Then please tell me what I’ve done wrong? I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me. After everything I’ve been through to get you back!”

“What _you’ve_ been through?” Chris barks leaping angrily out of the chair. He has to grab the edge of a shelf to steady himself. “I was made Kine!” he shouts. “Do you have any idea how fucking _demeaning_ that is to someone? After I find out they'd kidnapped Anton and I’m forced into a fucking prison cell, where they stripped me, Zach. They used scissors on my clothes rather than let me take them off. I was hosed down with the foulest smelling shit, then they told me to get in the box. They shoved a needle in my arm and when I flinched, because it fucking hurt, the tech just rolled his eyes and winked at his assistant.”

“Chris,” Zach whispers.

“And apparently I was one of the more well behaved when they talked about me like I wasn’t there. Would you believe some of us actually fight back and they’re given a lovely serum that paralyzes them?”

Zach‘s biting his lip, his eyes brimming. “I never knew.”

Chris brushes away his own angry tears. “Really? Cause I kind of got a different impression the night you kicked me out.”

“What?” says Zach wiping one eye with his fingers as it spills over.

“Did you do it Zach? Did you fuck me over?”

“What do you mean?” Zach seems confused. “Do what?” But the words won’t leave Chris’s mind, tethered as they are amid the maelstrom in his head.

“Call your asshole bosses to put the _corpse_ on ice,” says Chris angrily. Zach recoils.

“Chris,” he stumbles back and Chris almost reaches for him, but the Were stays upright. “My God, how could you think that?” Zach asks, sounding shocked.

“Because that’s what you said,” says Chris pointing a finger. “One call and I could have you put away.”

“What? Jesus, no,” he staggers backward, “please no, I never would, it was spur of the moment. Chris, I would never subject you to that, ever; it was Peter who took you and put you under. I didn’t even know you’d been taken until a few weeks later.”

Chris searches the Were’s face, looks for some sign of menace, that what he’s been through was caused by the man standing in front of him. There’s nothing but sadness and a look of desperate longing.

“You called me corpse,” he says. “And then you growled at me.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was angry.”

Chris licks his lips, “I never thought I’d hear you say it.” He sniffs and brushes his wrist under his nose.

“Chris,” says Zach and he takes a step closer. Chris can taste his tears as they slide between his lips. His image of Zach is slightly blurry but his can see the Were looks just as pained. There are wet rivulets on his cheeks as well.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” and distressingly he takes a sobbing gasp of air.

“Never,” says Zach.

Chris turns away first, unable to fight the tears and another ragged breath as his aching throat draws it in. He feels Zach’s warmth before the Were’s body comes up behind him and envelopes him in his arms, his forehead resting against the back of Chris’s head.

“I’m sorry I called you that and please know I would never subject you to that kind of torture, ever. It was horrible of me to threaten you with it.”

Chris turns, clings to Zach, buries his face in the Were’s warm neck. “I felt so powerless,” he says, shaking in Zach’s arms. “I was nothing to them.” He feels Zach stroke his back and kiss his temple.

“It’s over now,” says Zach.

“It’ll never be over Zach, not when Werewolves treat Vampire like this.”

“Yeah, I know.” Zach sighs and Chris can hear how helpless Zach feels in that single exhale.

When their lips touch, it’s hesitant and questioning at first, a soft brushing as though they believe the other to be too fragile. Chris, his forehead pressed to Zach’s closes his eyes and again feels the Were’s tentative touch against his mouth. He pushes back, parts his lips and takes Zach’s kiss fully. They immediately embrace and Chris tilts his head and opens his mouth accepting Zach’s tongue as Zach takes his.

The dream rushes back and all he can think of is Zach taking him behind the tree, so full of need and yearning to be together. He pulls at Zach’s shirt and hears the Were grunt when his hands slide up under the fabric.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Zach murmurs tugging at Chris’s tee, all the while pressing him closer with his other hand. “I really, really wanna fuck you Chris. I know you’ve only been awake for --”

“So fuck me,” says Chris barely pausing in his kissing. “I don’t want to think right now, just please make me feel.”

“Mm, God, okay.” Chris pulls back and hauls off his tee, then with his lips once more on Zach’s he begins to attack Zach’s shirt. “Where?”

Chris looks at the small cot that’s barely big enough for one, let alone two. “Against the wall,” he says. “My legs should be okay, just be ready to catch me.”

“Always.”

They finish undressing and Chris goes to the wall, feet apart, his arms crossed and leaning against the rough surface. He turns his head to see Zach’s right there behind him, his hands already at Chris’s waist as he smoothes them around to his stomach before trailing up to tease his nipples. Chris is already hard and his skin and body seem to feel a little more sensitive than usual. He wonders if it’s an after effect of being made Kine, but after that nightmare he’ll take it.

“Oh God,” he breathes when Zach begins nibbling the back of his neck and he can feel teeth as the Were nips at his flesh. Zach’s tongue follows trailing soft wet lines up his neck to his hairline. Chris shivers, sighing when Zach’s hands trace just as lightly across his chest and belly.

Big wet kisses replace the stroking tongue, noisy and open mouthed the Were’s lips caress Chris’s shoulders. Zach’s body presses against his back and Chris can feel the Were’s hard length pushing along his crack, the coarseness of his pubic hair and the subtle ripple of muscle as he moves.

“Are you okay?” Zach whispers. “You still want me?”

“Yes,” Chris murmurs. “I want you, I’ll always want you. Just…” He lets the sentence hang. _You fucking corpse, I want you gone!_

“Tell me,” says Zach.

“Promise you’ll never use that word again.”

The caresses stop. Instead, Zach’s warm arms come around to firmly hold him, pulling him marginally away from the wall. His cheek presses against Chris’s ear. “I am so sorry I hurt you, and it kills me to know that I did,” he says his voice thick. “I promise I will never hurt you again and I will never ever let that word pass my lips for as long as I draw breath.”

Chris sags a little when he exhales. They’re still just words, but the sincerity in Zach’s voice seems to release a tension Chris had been holding onto. Zach’s grip immediately tightens around him and he feels his entire body engulfed by the Were’s heat. “Thank you,” he sighs. “For coming for me.”

He feels Zach’s nose in his hair, the Were inhales, breathing him in. “If it took me to the Earth’s edge, I would come for you.”

For a long moment they don’t move, Chris holds the arms that are holding him, his head leaning against Zach’s shoulder.

“I need to feel you,” says Chris after a while, one arm reaching back to graze through Zach’s hair.

“If you‘re sure.”

“I need to know I still can.” With some reluctance Zach’s arms loosen and Chris leans forward, his arms against the wall once more.

“We don’t have any –“

“Check that cupboard,” says Chris waving a finger in the general direction. “There’s a tub of Vaseline somewhere.”

It feels colder than usual without Zach’s closeness, but he’s quick and Chris can hear him already smoothing the thick jelly along his cock. A warm hand rests on his back then fingers along his crack. Chris shifts his legs while Zach applies the Vaseline to his hole, stroking gently before carefully inserting it.

Chris gasps, pushing back in reflex. In spite of the past few weeks being nothing more than a black out, his body seems to crave the touch only Zach can bring. He shudders when a second finger joins the first; shifting his feet wider and tilting his hips back. “Please,” comes the rasping plea.

Zach’s free hand moves to the back of his neck, squeezing gently as the Were lines up. Chris can feel Zach’s cock nudging between his ass cheeks before the sharper prod when the head pushes at his ring. His own cock is brushing against the wall, tingling mercilessly as the hard shaft stands neglected.

“Oh fuck,” Chris groans when Zach breaches, sliding in all the way with his hands gripping Chris’s hips to pull him back. He stills a moment as Chris breathes, but he’s grateful Zach’s holding him since his legs are quivering under the impalement.

“You okay?” Zach asks.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

When Zach draws back only to push back in Chris hugs the wall to steady himself. Zach curls forward, bends his lithe body to encapsulate him, his hands seeking Chris’s to lace fingers.

“I’ve got you.”

“I know.”

They fuck like that, clinging to the wall and each other as their bodies rock in unison.

“I dreamt about you when I was under.”

“You did?” says Zach.

“Yeah, we…” Chris clenches his fists. He thought it was Patrick, but now believes it was Zach. “It was strange, but it was you and I going into battle. We fucked behind a tree.”

“Like this?” Zach murmurs moving slowly as he pulls back and positions his hands either side of Chris’s shoulders. Chris leans back into him. Zach’s hands smooth over Chris’s chest as his tongue licks up the Vampire’s neck. Then he reaches down to take hold of Chris’s aching cock.

“Oh God, yes,” he moans, trying to breathe. “It was a little more desperate, but I don’t want that now. I just want you.”

“Do you think of Patrick when we’re fucking?” asks Zach. Chris can hear the tremor in his voice.

“I used too, maybe the first time. It’s hard not to compare, but I certainly don’t now. Do you think of Matt?”

“Not anymore,” says Zach “Not for a long time.” He nuzzles into Chris’s neck and Chris leans into the caress, tilting his head as Zach devours his throat.

“Would,” Chris begins, his heart thrumming. “Would you use your growl?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” says Zach, his mouth pausing in its caressing. “The last time I did I… I’m sorry Chris.”

“Please growl for me,” he says hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate. Though used in anger it’s the closest thing he’s had to feeling human. He hopes it can be salvaged, that the emotion it evokes will be the same. “Please.”

He hears Zach sigh, feels him shift as thought the Were is trying to convince himself to go ahead. Then he hears it, the subtle rumble deep in the Were’s throat. A soft reverberation, but it’s enough to prickle his skin, enough for his breath to suddenly stick in this throat.

“Will you tell me what it does for you?” Zach asks, emitting another low growl.

Chris shivers, Zach kisses his jaw, lips open, making it wet. It’s just as it had been, exactly the same, the glorious sense of fear that permeates through him bringing the taste of fragility he’s always craving. “You wouldn’t understand,” he says, panting.

“Try me,” says Zach and this time growls louder, letting it tumble through his words.

“Oh God,” Chris breathes barely managing to keep his body relaxed, slowly unclenching his ass though he’s enjoying making Zach gasp when he tightens. “It’s terrifying; I like it because you make me feel so vulnerable.”

“Hmm,” Zach purrs his nose in Chris’s ear as his lips slide over the lobe. “The bee tames the wasp,” he murmurs. “You have no idea what a turn on it is to have someone so powerful melting under my hands.”

“I’m yours Zach, I’ll always be yours.”

“I know.” He fucks into Chris harder, curling their bodies forward against the wall again, as he tugs at Chris’s cock firmly. They come at the same time, Chris shooting over the rocks and Zach shooting inside Chris. He reaches around, clutches at Zach’s naked ass to keep him lodged as they ride their orgasm, gasping and moaning in the confines of the cavern.

Spent, they move to the cot, snuggling together on the tiny camp bed.

“You look exhausted,” says Chris, stroking Zach’s chest. He feels Zach press a kiss to his forehead.

“I haven’t had much sleep,” he says, yawning. “Haven’t had the time.”

“Why don’t you sleep now? It’s daylight anyway, so even if we wanted to I can’t go to the surface.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“Not for a while. I can stay awake longer when I’m underground.”

“Oh,” says Zach. “What will you do while I sleep?”

“Read, watch you, you know, all that creepy stalker stuff.”

Zach laughs, but only holds Chris tighter. “Fine then, creeper, you can watch me sleep.”

Chris gets up, slips on his jeans and drapes one of the blankets over Zach.

 

Chris climbs back up the ladder, his night vision enabling him to see clearly without the need of a lantern. He goes back to the Mustang, carefully climbs over it and assesses the pile of rocks that’s blocking the entrance. He can’t hear anything which means they’ve left, but it doesn’t exclude a lookout. Someone could be posted in case they manage to dig their way out. Unless their pursuers are mine experts, chances are they’re unaware of a second escape.

Following the tunnel Chris takes a right turn at a fork, which takes him further under the hill. Skirting more shafts he eventually reaches something shrouded in a large canvas tarp and more supplies are piled up along the walls.  Beyond that is an enormous boulder, twice his height and just as wide blocking the way. He steps up to it, smoothing his hand over its rough surface. It had taken him weeks to find and just as long to maneuver it into position. He knows on the outside it looks like the side of the hill, covered in dirt to hide the edges and over planted in the same tufted grass and scrubby bushes. The boulder itself is heavy enough, but he also needs to account for the dirt and plants on the other side.

Tentatively, Chris gives it a shove, which, to his annoyance does nothing. He pushes harder, drawing on all his strength, remembering how he’d managed to roll and push and shove and coerce the damn rock across the desert to use for this very purpose. He feels it give, but there’s significant weight. What he could use right now is a dose of blood, good blood, in fact make it a couple of gallons worth. His time at WOLPh has messed up his physiology, weakened him badly so he’s almost as useless as a human. The thought cheers him, but it doesn’t fix his problem.

Realizing what he’ll have to do, he makes his way back to the cavern. Zach’s sleeping soundly and he’s inclined to let the Were sleep for as long as he likes. It’s early afternoon and since he has no choice but to wait for night before he can make a move Chris selects one of his books and sits in the single chair. It’s facing Zach, so he can peer over the book to check on him whenever he desires. He settles back and begins to read.

Hours later, Zach moves, “Dammit,” he mutters and starts to get up. Chris watches as those long legs slide over the edge of the cot and his feet hit the dirt floor. “The fuck?”

“Good morning,” says Chris, a chuckle in his voice. “Sorry, I turned the lights off to conserve the batteries.”

“So you‘ve been sitting in the dark waiting for me to wake up?”

“Not the entire time, but I have for some of it, yes.”

“Creeper,” Zach mumbles. But Chris only laughs. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Late afternoon, early evening. Did you sleep okay?”

“This cot is surprisingly comfortable,” says Zach as he pulls on his jeans.

“Good,” says Chris. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Oh?” Chris has a cup of water, which he hands over to Zach. He’d gone over his speech numerous times, trying to find a way to explain to the Were what needs to happen. “You wanted a favor?” he asks.

“Yeah, we have a bit of a problem.” He paces, trying to gather his thoughts, words, anything that will hopefully soften what threatens to be a pretty menacing blow.

“Jesus, just spill it Chris, we’re buried in a fucking mine, what’s the problem?”

“I can’t move the boulder,” says Chris bluntly, speeches be damned.

“What? What boulder?”

“The boulder that will get us out of here.”

“We’re not digging our way out?”

“Not unless you want to stay here for the next few months. I’m not strong enough.”

“Oh,” says Zach, sitting back. “You need blood,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” says Chris, just as softly. “WOLPh’s process of draining me has done things I wasn’t aware of. I need to recover and the only thing that will enable me to do that quickly is to eat.”

“I see,” says Zach. “You need _my_ blood.”

“Dude, if there was another way—”

“No, I get it, it’s okay. I guess what I gave you before wasn’t enough?” says Zach, though he clearly seems to realize it’s a moot point. Chris wouldn’t be asking if that were the case.

“Does a sip of water quench your thirst?”

“Okay. Well shit, how do you want to do this?”

Chris licks his lips and sits back in the chair, facing him, his knees splayed and his elbows resting on them, fingers joined at the tips. “It hurts less with an orgasm,” he says stoically. Under any other circumstances, the conversation could be rather erotic; he’s bitten several people who wanted to explore odaxelagnia, but he can understand Zach’s reluctance. Even though he’d come to watch at the bar it’s understandable he’d still be apprehensive.

“You want to bite me,” says the Were sounding cautious and alert.

“No, I don’t want to, it’s not something I want to do _ever_ , but it’s what I have to do to get us out,” says Chris hoping that reason will win the battle that’s clearly taking place in Zach’s head.

“This is my fault,” says Zach, blowing out a long breath.

“What? What are you talking about? You didn’t make me Kine.”

“I should have been more careful, understood the protocols more before I openly flaunted you around.”

“Zach, the fuck dude, what the hell’s the matter?” says Chris. He gets out of the chair and comes over, crouching in front of Zach to look at him closer.

“If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened. If I’d stayed in fucking Pittsburgh everything would be fine.”

“Okay, just hold it right there. Are you telling me you wish we never met?” He searches the Were’s eyes, looking for some grounding as to why Zach’s suddenly losing it. But Zach turns away, closing them so Chris can’t see.

“I don’t know.”

The Were’s uncertainty seems to quash Chris’s own and he presses his lips to Zach’s mouth, cupping his face when he feels Zach respond then smoothing his hands through Zach’s hair.

He pulls away and Zach opens his eyes. He’s close enough that Chris can pick out the different strands of color in his eyes. “I’ll never regret knowing you,” he says. “I would do it all again if it meant I got to be with you.”

“Chris,” Zach whispers succumbing to another kiss.

Chris pulls back and takes Zach’s hands. “It’s okay, I guess I can manage without. It’ll take a while for me to recuperate without blood, but we should be okay.”

“No, you need my blood,” says Zach. “We have to get out, you can bite me.”

“Only if you’re absolutely certain you want to do this.”

Zach’s hands feel suddenly clammy. He lets go of Chris and wipes them down the legs of his jeans, the swallows the last bit of water. “Shit, I don’t know if I can do this,” he says, standing and moving away to the other side of the cavern.

Chris, still in his crouching position, lowers his head and looks at the ground. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he says quietly.

“But that means we’re stuck here. I thought I was saving you, instead I’ve made my own torture chamber.”

“Zach,” says Chris, standing as he looks at him.

“You drugged me Chris,” Zach blurts out. He’s suddenly breathing hard, his hands in his hair, then on his hips before he turns away to exhale loudly. “I know you didn’t bite, but isn’t it the same?”

Chris swallows hard, Zach’s expression is so full of fear and it’s not because he’s anticipating a bite. It’s pointed directly at him. Chris has made the man he loves fearful of him, fearful of what he is.

“Oh, Zach,” he says quietly.

“Will I lose more memory?” Zach asks, his voice projects every nuance of how frightened he is and each one stabs Chris directly in the heart. “Will I remember breaking you out, or that we’re in a goddamn fucking mine?”

“I’m so sorry, Zach,” says Chris softly. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

“I have gaps! Memories are gone,” says Zach. “What’s going to stop you from doing it again?”

“The way you’re looking at me now,” says Chris. “You’re terrified of me, I don’t want that, I certainly don’t want that for us. I swear to you Zach I will never do it again, to anyone, ever.”

“What about now? Won’t it twist my mind when you bite?”

“No,” says Chris and he carefully takes a step toward the Were. His heart squeezes almost painfully when he sees Zach take a step back. Instead he reaches out a hand, placating, in offering, a chance to reconcile. “I extract my fangs before it has a chance to take effect. It’s how I always bite, otherwise the people at Bar Sinister would be walking zombies by now.”

He watches Zach look at his hand then back to him, he’s still afraid, Chris can see it, but there’s a hint of need. “Please Zach, please don’t fear me,” he says dropping his hand.

“It hurts,” says Zach.

“I know,” says Chris. He won’t deny Zach’s horrid experience at the hands of the twins. He carefully takes another step closer.

 

There’s no malice whatsoever in Chris’s eyes and Zach feels suddenly awkward at making out as though Chris is a threat to him. He can’t stop the flashbacks; images of the twins as they took complete control. “They took me and bit into me as though I were a slab of meat.”

“You have every right to be angry,” says Chris. The Vampire takes another step.

  _This is my fault_ , Zach reminds himself, _when has Chris ever done anything to hurt me, really hurt me?_ The drugging was wrong and should never have happened, but that wasn’t done out of spite. And Chris promised, he promised he would never do it again.

Chris reaches him, and carefully touches his hand. Zach can’t help grasping with his fingers and moving towards him. This is his pleasure, a Vampire of his own. 

“I will never hurt you ever again,” Chris whispers. “You have my word.” He kisses him, gently, slowly and softly giving Zach no choice but to respond. He opens his mouth, accepting Chris’s tongue and wraps his arms around the Vampire’s torso.

“I come, and you bite me,” Zach whispers.

“Yeah, that’s how it would go.”

He knows he needs to trust Chris. “It still hurts though.”

“Not as much. A lot less than what you felt when you cut yourself on my teeth before.” He lifts Zach’s hand and kisses the ragged cut that’s marring Zach’s palm. “May I?”

Zach nods. He’s surprised he doesn’t flinch when Chris’s fangs appear and watches in fascination as the Vampire pierces the tip of his index finger and runs a bead of his own blood across the cut. It heals instantly.

“That’s amazing,” he says flexing his fingers.

 “If you think it would help, you could fuck me again,” says Chris. “And I’d heal you straight after.”

“Wow, I bet you get all the girls with that pick up line.”

Chris shrugs. “Usually they’re the ones looking to get bitten.”

“Okay, we have no choice so we’d better just get it over with,” says Zach, though his mind is full of bloodied sharp teeth  ”Just explain exactly what’s going to happen.”

“Of course,” says Chris. “You tell me where you want the bite, I need you to be comfortable with the placement of it.”

“Okay,” says Zach already unsure about even that part. “Then what?”

“You fuck me,” says Chris bluntly. “When you come I’ll bite. I’m told it feels like a pinch, a bit of a sting. You’ll feel the bite, feel my teeth sink in, but it shouldn’t feel as horrific as it sounds. You’ll also feel me pull out once I’ve penetrated a vein, then I’ll suck on the wound for a few swallows. Because you’re Were it shouldn’t take much.”

“Okay. That doesn’t sound so bad, and the people at the bar seemed into it.”

“I promise you won’t lose any memory,” says Chris, the seriousness in his voice blatant. “Where would you like me to bite?”

Zach sighs. This has to happen; it’s their only way out. “Here,” he says indicating his forearm. “No one’s touched my arms.”

“Okay, that will enable you to see me, is that okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Zach presses his lips together. “I need to see it.”

“If you’re sure,” says Chris, and Zach sees him assessing him.

“I’m sure.”

“Then either spooning or from behind while I’m on my stomach might be the best positions. I’ll have better access to your arm. And so you know, there won’t be a scar, nothing but memory okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “On your stomach, then.” He nods towards the cot. Chris’s run down makes him feel a little more empowered.

They pull off their jeans and Zach sees Chris hadn’t bothered with the white boxers. He wonders if the Vampire will keep them, or burn them. Chris grabs the tub of Vaseline and positions himself face down on the camp bed.

“Like this?” he says, wiggling his ass.

“Yeah, that’ll do nicely,” says Zach as he climbs on the bed. It creaks, but holds. Chris hands him the Vaseline.

“Better give me reapplication.”

Zach strokes himself to hardness, the view of Chris’s ass helps, and he manages to keep the horror movie out of his head long enough so he can sink in.

“Mm,” Zach sighs, “Don’t think I’ll ever get sick of that.”

“I can tell,” says Chris under him, already positioning Zach’s arm so he’s leaning on his elbow, but his forearm is right at Chris’s mouth.

“You’re not biting me yet are you?” asks Zach, the panic in his voice prevalent. He hesitates on the next stroke, his cock half out as he prepares to make a run for it.

“No,” says Chris, “Not yet, not until you come.”

Zach settles back. “Just, warn me, okay?”

Chris pushes his ass back. “I’ll brush my fangs along your arm first, before I do anything. And please don’t feel bad if you change your mind. If you want to stop, let me know.”

“Okay.”

It takes a while for Zach to find a rhythm, but after a few minutes the stimulation takes over and his cock swells harder. Chris tips his head back with a moan, rocking his body to match Zach’s thrusts, his fingers gently stroking Zach’s forearm. It’s incredibly soothing, and he curls forward further, angling himself over Chris’s body as his other hand laces with Chris’s fingers.

His mouth finds Chris’s ear and he licks over the edge before his teeth nip the tender flesh. Chris moans and Zach pulls him closer, rolling them onto their sides, his proffered arm now Chris’s pillow. He takes hold of Chris’s cock and strokes him slowly. A new rhythm ensues with Chris moving between Zach’s cock and hand.

Zach keeps teasing the Vampire’s ear and feels such a strong affection for Chris he wants to share his blood; there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for him, like drive him halfway across the desert in order to keep him safe. Needing his blood only strengthens Zach’s desire to ensure Chris remains protected. What Zach needs to do is make sure the Weres of WOLPh don’t get their hands on him again.

“I’m close,” he whispers.

“I know,” says Chris and Zach feels the Vampire’s elongated fangs slide along his arm. He shudders, but not in horror, it’s what he wants, what he can give to Chris.

He cries out when he comes and with the first tremors of orgasm he feels Chris’s teeth sink into his arm. “Oh God,” he groans surprised that the shock of pain melds with his pleasure and enhances his orgasm. He clings to Chris as he bucks into him with finality, keeping his arm in place as the Vampire feeds. He kisses Chris’s neck and cheek as the initial pain fades and he pleasures in the fact that he’s giving sustenance to his lover.

Chris pulls up, but Zach then feels him smoothing his finger over the bite. He moves to face Zach and the Were can see his arm is completely healed.

“Thank you,” says Chris, kissing him warmly.

“That wasn’t what I expected. I mean, it hurt a little to begin with, but it was, I don’t know, almost sensual.”

“Told you,” says Chris, stroking Zach’s cheek. “Why do you think I have people specifically coming to see me?”

“I can see the attraction, but I’m not entirely sure it’s my thing. How’d it taste?”

“Like something I’ve waited a long time to taste and not been disappointed when I finally did. Your blood is thicker than regular human.”

“Huh, good to know.”

“So, we maybe should get going if we want to avoid daylight. You ready to get out of here?”

“I think so,” says Zach.

They get up to dress and Zach can already see the difference his blood has made. The Vampire stretches as though having just woken from a refreshing nap.

Smiling, Zach goes for his own clothes when a sudden surge ripples through his body. “Oh God, no,” he says, falling on all fours.

“Zach, are you okay?” Chris kneels beside him. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

“Chris,” Zach hisses through clenched teeth. “Get away from me, you have to get away.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” Zach looks to him and that’s when he sees the horror on Chris’s face and has little doubt he’s looking at the Vampire with bright yellow eyes.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris knows he needs to find a safe place to stay for his pending transition. The hardest part will be making sure Zach won't get into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: teasing about consent; consent play

“Whoa, dude, it’s the fucking _full moon_ tonight?” says Chris in alarm as he backs up several steps. “Jesus Christ, how could you forget something like that?”

“I’ve been busy,” Zach snaps. Chris cans see the changes ripple across the Were’s body. His fingernails have already turned into savage looking claws.  “Seriously,” Zach grunts, “you won’t want to hang around.”

 “Where the fuck am I going to go? You’ll track me down no matter what!” says Chris, aghast. He considers the boulder. He has the strength now to shift it, but he’s fairly certain Zach would be on him by the time he manages to move it. Though he’s had Wereblood, the boulder is still a solid chunk of rock that weighs a few ton.

“Is there anywhere you can hide that I won’t be able to fit?” says Zach. “I’m gonna get bigger, but I’ll probably be able to still fit through the shaft.” His voice deepens and takes on a distinct growling quality. Then his arms and legs thicken and he grows at least two feet taller, and has to bend over a little so his head doesn’t hit the low ceiling.

There are plenty of tunnels and shafts snaking through the mine, a few barely large enough to fit a man, let alone a gigantic Wolf. Chris goes to the ladder and climbs the first few rungs before it hits him. He looks back, “But I was your Imus, aren’t I protected?”

Zach looks directly at him sending a shiver down Chris’s spine. Chris shrinks back against the ladder rungs when he sees the fear in Zach’s eyes. Their relationship hasn’t exactly been conventional and his Imus status was just an agreement between them rather than anything official.

“You don’t know. Jesus, you don’t even know,” Chris murmurs. Zach shudders, arching his back as the hair on his body suddenly fills out, covering him entirely. “Holy shit,” Chris breathes. Zach’s fingers shrink, under the great claws, into the toes and feet of a Wolf. His legs buckle as his knees bend in the opposite direction and a sleek tail grows from his tailbone. Unable to move, the Vampire is paralyzed more with fascination than terror. Though his heart is thumping madly in his chest it’s the first time he’s ever seen a Werewolf change. He’s seen plenty of Wolves, but never in this state. It looks painful, but Zach seems to know what’s happening and he lets his body manipulate his shape until it no longer looks human.

“Chris,” he says, struggling to speak because his voice is no longer that of a man but a far deeper and a lot more guttural sound. His ears, furry and pointed at the tips, shift into a higher position before his cheekbones jerk forward. His nose elongates along with his lower jaw to form a muzzle and all four canines have lengthened into prominent sharp teeth.

The whole transformation takes all of a few minutes, the time it takes for the moon to rise above the horizon. Chris feels as though it’s an eternity until he’s hanging off the ladder looking at the biggest black Wolf he’s ever seen. He’s never been so close to a Were in Wolf form before. It’s almost a disappointment that he needs to get out of there.

Chris had thought the Wolf would go for him immediately, and his muscles are quivering, bunched up and ready to take off the instant he senses his time is up. But Zach isn’t moving, just watching him with those terrifying yellow eyes.

“Do you recognize me, Zach?” he asks and carefully steps down to a lower rung. His Vampire speed should get him out in time, but in spite of his fear, he needs to know there’s hope. Since Zach hasn’t gone for his throat yet he’s starting to believe there is a chance. He jumps down, his eyes never leaving Zach’s. “You’re impressive, I’ll give you that.” He can feel the Wolf’s hot breath when he takes a step closer. Then slowly, hoping his arm remains intact, he reaches forward and touches the creature’s cheek.

The Wolf makes a soft growling noise, deep in the back of his throat. It’s not threatening, if a growl can sound anything but, and Chris feels the same thrill of it, emitting a slight gasp and his fingers delve deeper into the soft thick fur. If he didn’t know any better, he could swear Zach was leaning into his touch.

“You do, don’t you?” he says looking into the Wolf’s eyes, his fear slightly abated. “You know who I am.” Like any one in the presence of a dog like animal, Chris reaches high and scratches behind Zach’s ear. The golden eyes blink slowly, the head tilting a little towards the scratch. “Figured if Noah likes it, you would too.” He scratches a little harder, smiling at the Wolf’s reaction.

Zach steps closer, more a shifting of his huge paws, but it’s the first movement since he turned. His head is at the same height as Chris so he takes up a fair bit of space in the cavern. If things had turned ugly at least Chris might have had a chance to escape to one of the smaller tunnels. Chris continues the scratch, using both hands now until he’s able to wrap his arms about the Wolf’s neck and bury his face in the long fur.

“This is surreal,” says Chris, his voice muffled. He pulls back, his face beaming with a broad smile. “Do you know what this means, dude? It means Weres don’t have to kill Vampire! Whatever instinct you have, you’re not using it now, or you’re managing to fight it. Don’t you see? Our two species can live together without the need for death. We just need to figure out the trigger.” He hugs the Wolf again and that’s when he feels a strong nudge against his head. Leaning back his face is assaulted by a large wet tongue as Zach licks his face. “Jesus,” Chris gasps, “Okay, maybe you can understand me even if you can’t talk.”

Zach nudges him again, pushing him towards the bottles of water.

“Oh, are you thirsty?” asks Chris. “Hey, you’re probably starving, too. When did you last eat?” He pulls the blankets out of the tub and pours the water from a few bottles into it. The Wolf immediately begins lapping it up. Chris strokes his shoulder while he drinks, smiling when he finishes and licks his mouth clean. “I need to find you some food, don’t I? When you change back you’ll be starving.”

Having had the Wereblood he feels invigorated, fresh and strong and a lot more powerful than before he was made Kine. He pulls on his t-shirt and boots since he’s already wearing his jeans and heads for the ladder. A lower, almost pitiful whimper stops him and he turns around to those eyes. _How the fuck does a Werewolf manage puppy dog eyes?_

“Come on, Zach, you’ll be super hungry when you change back. Let me get something for you. I’m feeling a lot better, if that’s what’s worrying you. Besides, I won’t be long I promise.” He takes a few steps up the ladder and turns back. ‘Hey, what if I read to you when I get back?”

The Wolf lifts a paw and makes a funny howling kind of noise. It’s a classic ‘shake hands’ pose, but whatever Zach is trying to communicate, Chris is too overcome by how sweet the gesture is. He’s back down the ladder and hugging the Wolf in a flash before he flies back up it again.

This time, when he goes to the boulder he’s able to shift it with more ease, but it’s lodged in deep. He pushes it forward, turning his head as sand and grit begin to pour in from the edges. After a moment he picks it up and walks forward with it held in his arms until he feels the cool air of night on his skin as it wafts through the tunnel. Clouds of dust swirl past him and he sets it down just a little way so there’s enough room for him to get out.

His first thought is to quickly check the entrance from the outside. Since Zach had been chased there’s every chance his pursuers have left a stakeout. There don’t appear to be any cars, and when Chris is certain the area is clear he goes to the pile of rubble that was once the entrance. Two sets of tire tracks show Chris the pattern of them reversing before driving off towards town again. He can’t tell how long they stayed, but since it’s the full moon tonight he realizes they would hardly stay put. They would want to get back to Vegas. There’s a sudden warm breath against his neck and Zach is there beside him.

“Found your way out, huh? There aren’t that many of your kind out here,” says Chris, “but I guess the extra protection will help.”

When they reach the nearby town it’s still early and Chris manages to get to the small grocer just before closing. He leaves Zach outside when he goes in, hoping the giant Wolf isn’t too conspicuous, but then the town is pretty much tucked in for the night.

 It’s the first time he’s had to supply a meal for the Were, but he figures a sandwich will suffice and so grabs what he hopes Zach will like.

“Been a while since you were here,” says the elderly man at the register.

“Hey, Frank, how’s business?” asks Chris as he scans the shelves, trying to figure out what he should get. It’s been almost six months since he last came to the mine to check things and make sure everything was still functioning. He’d meant to come a lot earlier, but his life had taken a sudden turn and so his plans were waylaid. During construction he’d to come into town to buy a few supplies, ordering the water and batteries, even the solar panels, which was how he’d come to know Frank.

“Same as always,” says Frank. “What business do you have being out tonight of all nights? Kerry’s already holed up downstairs. Damned if I’ll take a chance with her.”

“Last minute provisions?” Chris says and puts an armful of groceries on the counter.

“Who or what are you expecting to feed this too, Chris?” asks Frank gingerly picking up a can of processed meat. “I know I supply it, but you’re a friend, so I don’t mind telling you I wouldn’t even give this to my dog.” Chris eyes the can, then Frank. “Jesus Christ, that’s how you got here isn’t it? You got some crazy ass deal going with a Were?”

“It’s not what you think, Frank,” says Chris.

“You don’t need to explain yourself, and far be it from me to tell you to be careful.”

“How is Kerry?” asks Chris. He notices fresh puncture marks on Frank’s arm and one that’s older but almost healed on his neck. Chris doesn’t doubt there are probably others. “The town worried about your ever-youthful wife?”

“If they are they can go fuck themselves,” says Frank earnestly. “I’m happiest when I’m with her and I am honored to have been chosen by her. We’ve been married over forty years now.”

“There might be hope for the rest of us yet,” says Chris.

“There’s always hope, son. Not all humans are afraid of the bogeyman. Some of us go ahead and marry!” Frank says with a chuckle. “Now let’s find something decent for your, uh, friend, rather than feed them this poison, okay?” He comes out from behind the counter and begins making his own selection from the shelves.

“Thanks, Frank,” says Chris, relieved he’ll be able to give Zach something relatively nourishing.

“Did your project work out?” Frank asks as he rings up the sale and carefully places the items in a big paper bag.

“Yep, although I’d hoped it would last a little longer. I’ll have to consider Plan B.”

Frank walks him to the door. “You be careful out there now. The Cawley’s will be out and they’re not the friendliest of Wolves.” He flips the sign around to say ‘Closed’.

“I’ll be okay,” says Chris. “Say hi to Kerry for me.”

“She’s gonna rip through me because I let you go back out there!”

“You gonna stop me?” says Chris with a smile.

“As if I fucking could,” says Frank. “Just don’t go turning yourself to mincemeat on account of needing groceries for your pet.”

“Easy now, Frank. We can all live on the same level.”

“If that happens during my lifetime, I’ll sell up and move me and Kerry to fucking Iceland where the sun only comes up six months of the year.”

“You do that,” says Chris, laughing, and waves once Frank has closed and locked the door, although the old man is shaking his head.

Using Vampire speed, Chris runs to where he’d left Zach only to find the Wolf isn’t there.

“Zach?” he calls, trying to keep his voice down. Frank’s reminder that the Cawley’s will be out sends a shiver through him. There are seven of them that are Wolves, Mr Cawley being the only human and the proud father of six daughters. Mother Wolf and her near-adult cubs are the only threat during a full moon, and Kerry’s the only Vampire. Through his meetings with Frank, Chris learned the Wolves preferred to go to Vegas where there was a greater chance of catching Vampire. It’s all Frank can do to keep Kerry safe, but she refuses to move on principle. “Zach!”

He hears a yip of pain and the harsh growling of a fight. Christ, if it’s one against seven tonight might seriously be their last. Chris manages to locate the furor where a black Wolf is going berserk among a pack of jostling Wolves, all trying to bring him down.

Chris gets an idea that is both foolhardy and suicidal, but he figures he has little choice since Wolves are terribly territorial and are just as likely to kill Zach. With the only other Vampire in town safely locked away, Chris hopes he’ll be more desirable.

“Hey!” he calls, standing under a street light and waving his arms. “Here doggie, doggie!” At first he thinks it’s not working, until one of them turns and her eyes, glowing with refractive light, set his heart racing. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. This was not a very good idea. The fight ceases immediately and the seven Cawley Wolves turn and begin to run towards Chris. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Chris breathes, dropping his groceries and bolting down the street. He knows he can’t outrun them and he doesn’t know the town well enough for a good hiding place. All he knows is the grocer. He briefly considers going there, but that would expose Kerry and he doesn’t know if the Wolves would just barge into the shop. Either way, the Wolves would finish him off while he was waiting to be let in.

He can hear them running behind him, their combined breath coming far too close as they make the distance between predator and prey shorter. Chris zips up a side street, but the Wolves are too quick and easily change direction to follow.  Perhaps he can lose them in the desert, and fuck! What if Zach’s hurt?

He wheels around, jumping over fences and ducking down pathways to make his way back to the location of the fight. His erratic choice of direction means he’s momentarily lost the Wolves, but he knows they’ll pick up his trail soon enough.

Sliding to a halt, he finds Zach carefully licking at his coat. There’s blood and Chris can see the cut is quite deep. “Okay, buddy, we don’t have much time,” says Chris, checking to see if the Wolves have caught up yet. “You need this to heal, then we gotta get the hell out of here.” Biting into his wrist, Chris holds it up to Zach’s mouth. The large pink tongue flicks out and licks at the bleeding wound. Chris hisses as it stings and Zach’s saliva keeps the wound open longer, inhibiting Chris’s ability to heal.

When he sees the wound on Zach’s side close he pulls away, and only just gets a hold of his groceries again when the Cawleys show up, rounding a corner and snarling viciously.

Clutching the bag to his chest, Chris backs up, his flight instinct coursing through him until he bumps into Zach.

“They’re more interested in me than you, dude,” he says.

Zach moves to stand in front of Chris, growling loudly and snapping at the Cawley Wolves. Hackles up, Zach’s menacing posture has a surprising effect on the Wolves whose territory he’s inhabiting. Chris wonders if they can sense Zach has consumed Vampire blood since all seven of them back off, though the hatred in their eyes is still apparent. Snarling, they walk away until they disappear around the corner of the church.

Releasing the breath that threatened to choke him, Chris sags against Zach’s flank, clutching at the thick fur to keep himself upright.

“Fuck me, I need to lie down,” he says.

Chris runs back to the mine with Zach, careful to pull the boulder back so the Cawley’s or any other Wolves that happen to be around can’t follow them in. Zach’s unable to get back down the shaft and Chris sees the scratch marks around the edge of it where Zach must have initially climbed out.

The giant Wolf curls up on the ground and Chris leans up against him. Having stored the groceries and fetched a book, Chris begins to read out loud.

A few hours later, Chris is halfway through a sentence when he feels Zach begin to shift. The Wolf had been comfortably lying on his side with the Vampire snuggled against his middle. Chris stops reading and moves to stand. Zach’s body begins to change back, the process reversing until he’s once more a man. The last things that changes back are his eyes.

Zach blinks a few times and Chris is relieved to see the yellow deepen until it becomes Zach’s normal dark brown. He takes a moment to focus and when he sees Chris, he smiles. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” says Chris. He steps up to him and suddenly kisses Zach’s mouth. He can tell Zach’s confused but not against the idea of kissing. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Zach asks.

“I think you saved my life.”

“Oh, okay then,” says Zach a little dubious. “You’re welcome.”

Chris explains what happened once they’re back in the cavern and Zach is dressed in his jeans and munching into a big sandwich.

“I have a few vague images,” says Zach. “You shouldn’t have gone out. That was really stupid and dangerous.”

“Hey, don’t start speaking to me like I don’t have a clue,” Chris chides in annoyance. “I didn’t think the Cawley’s would be there, they usually take off to Vegas during the full moon.” Sensing a fight Chris recalls the awful words that were said the night he was taken. _You fucking corpse!_ Though he’s forgiven Zach, it still stings. The forgetting will take a lot longer.

“I’m sorry,” says Zach looking mortified when he turns away. “I didn’t mean… I was worried.”

“I understand, but I’m not an idiot. Five hundred years young, remember?” says Chris. Zach looks horrified. He’s probably remembering the fight as well.

“I know, I’m sorry, I freaked out and didn’t think what I was saying,” he reasons, but his eyes are begging for forgiveness, as though hoping he hasn’t fucked it up again.

It dissolves Chris’s agitation. “It’s okay,” he says stepping closer to stroke Zach’s arm. “Just remember to trust me. Every other full moon the Cawleys team up with the Vegas Wolves to patrol the city. I guess it makes for a more adventurous evening.”

“You mean the Vegas Wolves that chased us across the desert to the mine?”

“Oh,” says Chris suddenly realizing his mistake. But it doesn’t mean Zach has free reign to be an asshole whenever he feels like it. “Yeah, I hadn’t made that connection.”

“Jesus, Chris, the full moon is out of bounds to you,” says Zach, wiping his mouth after a mouthful of water. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That you needed to eat! Seriously dude, that’s the first meal you’ve had since fuck knows when. You haven’t eaten once since we’ve been down here, not to mention the fact that I also took your blood,” says Chris. “I’ve survived thousands of full moons. I’m not getting cocky, but I’m not completely ignorant.”

“Yet you still almost became Were chow!” says Zach, his previous contrition gone.

“You think this is the first time I’ve taken a chance on the full moon? It isn’t,” says Chris. It’s not as though Zach is being unreasonable: he’s worried; but Chris can’t understand why the Were thinks he’s oblivious to danger when he’s seen enough for several lifetimes.

“Then promise me it’ll be your last,” says Zach the desperation in his face is indication enough to Chris that the Were really isn’t trying to be an ass, he’s just concerned. Chris takes a breath.  Zach isn’t demanding obedience. He cares and he’s worried, but then Chris doesn’t want to make a promise he may not be able to keep. “Please Chris, just at least promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“I’m careful,” he says, relenting. The Were’s trying and is making an effort, even if Chris has to remind him. He kisses the corner of Zach’s mouth and in return he’s engulfed in a hug and a further apology whispered in his ear. “We’re okay,” Chris whispers back.

Chris pulls back first, kissing Zach again and looking into those sorrowful eyes until he manages to get a smile.

“I shouldn’t have—” Zach begins, but Chris holds up a hand, patting Zach’s shoulder after a moment.

“Don’t even,” he says. Then a thought that’s been puzzling him since Zach first turned surfaces.  “Something’s happened between us,” he begins. “As Wolf you weren’t interested in eating me at all.”

 “Yeah, I thought that was weird too,” says Zach. He seems to have calmed a little. “You still smelled really good, but I just knew you were off limits, so to speak. I wasn’t interested in you as, you know, food. And I enjoyed the time we had when you were reading to me. That was nice.”

“Do you think it’s the bond thing?” says Chris.

“Maybe,” he says. “There’s not much else to go on. It would be interesting to find out.” Zach tries and fail to smother a big yawn.

“Need to sleep?”

“I could,” he says with another yawn. “But I just feel this intense need to be near you.” He reaches forward and takes hold of Chris’s hand.

“That’s probably because of my blood. Please tell me you remember having it.”

“I remember. Thanks for that.” He stretches the side that had been hurt, smoothing over the skin with his hand. “I’ve never fought one of my own kind before, let alone seven. Our claws are really sharp.”

Fingers laced with Zach’s, Chris places his other hand over the same spot then leans in for a kiss. Zach wraps both arms about the Vampire’s neck, pulling him in closer.

“That feel better?” Chris asks.

“Mm,” Zach purrs against Chris’s lips. “It’s a start.”

“Oh, really?” Chris gently bites Zach’s lower lip before firmly cupping his package and giving it a squeeze and continuing to massage through Zach’s jeans. “How about now?”

“Getting there.”

Chris strokes harder and feels Zach leaning on him. A gasp of breath fans his ear until Zach’s tongue licks over the edge of it.

“Wanna come?” Chris asks softly, tugging at Zach’s semi-hard erection. He’d only slipped on his jeans to eat before he slept, so Chris is rubbing him against the rough denim.

“Jesus,” Zach murmurs. “How can I possibly say no?”

Chris undoes the button and zip, delving in to fish out Zach’s cock. “I dare you to,” he says. Now that his access is unhindered he spits in his hand and rubs it over the swollen head.

“Mm, yeah,” says Zach. He’s getting heavier as he leans harder against Chris, but he weighs almost nothing to the Vampire.

“Not quite,” says Chris, his lips teasing Zach’s jaw. “Come on, try saying no. I promise I’ll stop.” He runs his thumb over the slicked head pushing it roughly along the underside then over the dribbling slit. Zach bucks into his hand, clings to him and moans in his ear. “No, Chris, I want you to stop. Come on, say it, Zach. Tell me you want me to stop doing this to you. Don’t you want to sleep?”

“Fu-uck,” Zach breathes when Chris continues with the same stroke over and over, rubbing the sensitive underside with his spit and pre-come soaked thumb. Chris curls his thumb and rubs it over the head. Around and around as Zach holds him, clutching him close, moaning desperate, nonsensical words into the Vampire’s ear. 

Chris can feel the Were shudder, those long and graceful legs working to keep him upright. With his other hand he reaches for Zach’s balls, massaging them between his fingers and palm while he continues to pay homage to Zach’s overly-sensitized cock.

“Fuck dude, fuck,” Zach groans, his face buried in Chris’s neck. His hips jerk, wanting to fuck into Chris’s hand, but the Vampire remains solely at the head until Zach’s close to losing it. “Please let me at least fuck your hand,” he mutters again trying to aim his cock into Chris’s palm.

Chris takes pity on him. “Don’t you like this?” He slows the incessant rubbing, threatening to stop.

“Yes, but you’re driving me crazy with that thumb of yours,” Zach pants. “No, don’t you dare stop!”

“Just give me a second,” says Chris pulling away gently.

Zach straightens, confused. “What, why?”  But Chris is already on his knees and taking Zach’s cock into his mouth. “Oh, okay. Mm, yeah.”

Chris carefully opens his throat and slides along the shaft taking Zach’s full length down, then pulls back. He keeps the same slow careful rhythm, inwardly grinning when Zach’s hands delve into his hair. He can feel Zach’s need when the Were tries to encourage a faster pace, but again Chris keeps it slow, rubbing his hands along Zach’s legs.

When Zach comes, Chris has him deep down his throat, thrilling at the cries the Were makes as he clings to Chris’s head, gasping and calling as his orgasm shudders through his body.

Chris pulls off, swallowing as he does so and watches as Zach staggers back a few steps. He semi-collapses on the cot and Chris moves swiftly to ensure he’s okay, helping him to lie down as he tugs the blanket over him.

“Wait, you haven’t come yet,” says Zach, struggling to stay awake.

“I’ll come later,” says Chris pulling the blanket higher and kissing his temple. “Sleep now.”

Zach doesn’t answer and Chris is touched that the man that was a Wolf barely an hour ago passes out like a small child who’s had an exceptionally big day. He strokes the dark hair then settles in the chair opposite.

 

The first thing Zach notices when he wakes is how solid an erection he has. His dreams were full of Chris naked and doing things to him he’s only viewed in porn. With a yawn and a stretch he opens his eyes; grateful Chris left the lights on this time. He palms his cock, only to discover it’s encouraged by his attention and twitches desperately in his hand.

“You’re insatiable,” says Chris.

“Will you quit watching me sleep?” says Zach. “It’s fucking creepy, dude, and I was having a private moment. Besides, it’s the after effect of _your_ blood.”

“By all means take your time, it’s still light out.”

“Really? What time is it?” Zach climbs out of the cot and tries to wrangle his aching dick back into his jeans. It presses awkwardly against the seam of the zipper and part way across his thigh.

“About four-thirty,” says Chris. “We still have a few hours before we can make a move. I just want to make sure everything will be okay when we leave. I don’t know when I’ll get back here.”

The first thing Zach thinks of is the Mustang. Battered and beaten and buried. Thoughts of it slowly rusting away only reminds him of how short a time he’s had it, but Chris’s problem with finding a new safe hold far outweighs his car.

 “What are you going to do?” he asks. He knows it’s his fault that Chris is being forced to think of an alternative.

“I can lay low in Vegas,” says Chris. “I know a place. It’s not my first pick, obviously, but it will have what I need.”

“Not your first pick? Why, what’s wrong with it?”

Chris sighs and Zach can sense the Vampire doesn’t want to divulge too much. “I used to live there. It’s safe, I’ll be fine and I won’t be able to harm anyone, but there’s, um…history,” he finishes.

“History?” Zach’s intrigued, but Chris is giving off major ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ vibes. Curious as he is Zach knows he should respect that. The Vampire will tell him if and when he’s ready.

“Yeah,” says Chris dismissively. “Hey, I made you breakfast.”

“Thanks,” says Zach, eyeing the food. He’d made his own sandwich the previous night, and is a little apprehensive as to what Chris will have put together. But aside from putting a bit too much filling inside, it tastes okay. He wants to ask about Vegas, but it’s clear the Vampire’s shut down the subject. “Do you need to feed?” he says around a mouthful before swallowing.

“Nah, man, I’m good for a while thanks to you.”

When he finishes eating Zach adjusts himself again, noting his cock hasn’t settled. He’s not angry at having Chris’s blood, it’s just the after effects that can be waning. “I’m gonna check the Mustang if that’s okay,” he says.

“Sure,” says Chris and hands him the lantern before lighting it. “She’ll be okay.” He calls when Zach is making his way up the shaft.

Though he tries to assess the damage, it’ll need a shitload of panel work, the lantern does little by the way of showing Zach much of the car. He checks underneath, and tries to look along each side, but he can’t see much from where he’s standing since he physically can’t get around it. The hood seems fine save for a thin coating of dust.

A cool hand slides over his shoulder, squeezing with reassurance. “We’ll get her fixed,” says Chris.

“Are you kidding me? How?” says Zach. “She’s buried under God knows how much rock and the body work is a mess. It’ll cost a fortune.”

“Well I didn’t say how _long_ it would take,” says Chris, his other hand begins stroking along Zach’s still hard dick.

“Mm, don’t get my hopes up dude, I know she’s as good as gone,” he says, his thoughts already wavering from the car to the sensations Chris has conjuring in his balls. “Besides, it’s your turn,” he says, shifting to place the lantern on the ground and facing the Vampire. “You didn’t get to come last night.”

“Fuck me over the hood then,” says Chris. His soft tone immediately implants a visual in Zach’s mind, which in turn sends a fiery spark to his already pained cock.

“Jesus, Chris,” he murmurs kissing him hard, his tongue darting into the Vampire’s mouth as he rubs his burgeoning cock against Chris’s thigh. Chris pushes back and Zach can feel his rigid need.

“Hard and fast,” whispers Chris. “Fuck me like you need it.”

“Oh, I need it,” says Zach and tugs at Chris’s jeans, finding them already open so he hauls them down over the Vampire’s ass. He grabs a firm cheek, squeezing, pulling Chris closer. “And you? Tell me what you need?”

“I need to come with your dick inside me,” says Chris, punctuating his words with a series of soft nips along Zach’s jaw. “I want your hand jacking me, forcing me to come when you do.”

“Lube?” Zach asks quickly. Chris might want it rough, but he’s not about to hurt him.

“I’m ready for you,” says Chris, guiding the hand that’s on his ass a little further so Zach can feel the slick of Vaseline along Chris’s crack.

“Bend the fuck over.”

Chris complies, leaning on the hood. The sight of his proffered ass in the soft glow of the lantern sends even more sparks to Zach’s balls. He groans, fighting with his jeans as he yanks them down.

“No fingers,” says Chris hurriedly. “Just fuck me already.”

“But it’ll—”

“Fuck me, Zach.”

Zach lines up and thrusts in with a grunt, sliding home as though the Vampire were made for him. The cool depths of Chris’s body melt around his dick and he shudders as Chris grips him firmly. He slams in again, enjoying the noises Chris makes, the soft pleading for more. He’s begging, begging to be fucked as he leans over the Mustang, his hands clutching the hood, legs spread, and his ass pushing back in demand.

Taking hold of his hips, Zach does as his Vampire wishes and pounds into him. He realizes Chris knows what his blood is capable of and the only way to reduce its effect. Zach smoothes his hand forward, grabbing one of Chris’s shoulders while the other reaches under to firmly grasp the Vampire’s cock.

“God, yes,” Chris sighs eagerly thrusting into Zach’s hand. His pre-come quickly coats Zach’s fingers, which he uses along the length and further down to the Vampire’s balls. “Fuck, Zach.”

Zach pulls him close, pressing Chris’s back into his chest. He kisses the Vampire’s ear then with a slow build up he emits a deep reverberating growl. Chris shudders instantly, his whimper becoming a moan when Zach does it again.

“Is this want you wanted, Chris?” Zach asks, keeping his voice in the back of his throat so it rumbles with intimidation. “Have I fulfilled your demands to fuck you hard and fast?”

“Yes,” Chris pants. “Please don’t stop growling like that. God, it’s gonna make me come.”

“All over my car?” Zach squeezes his cock, milking him of pre-come and causing Chris to cry out.

“Ah fuck, yes, on the car.”

“My pride and joy?” Zach snarls, but though it sounds menacing, he feels the Vampire shiver. He licks over his ear, kisses his temple with an open wet mouth then nibbles on Chris’s lobe. “Think you deserve to?”

“God, Zach, I’m about to, please.”

“Go on then, anoint my baby,” Zach’s voice returns to normal, grunting when he feels himself shooting inside Chris’s body, the Vampire empties himself over the hood of the Mustang; droplets of come splatter in the dust, white pearls on the once-immaculate car.

“Fuck!” says Chris, reaching back to hold Zach in place. The Were is sweaty, but they’re both panting. Zach holds him, both arms across his chest as he nuzzles into Chris’s neck. With his other hand Chris strokes Zach’s hair. “Mm, that felt fucking amazing.”

Zach kisses his shoulder. “My pleasure.”

They return to the cavern and tidy up. Zach puts the rest of the food in his duffle and Chris does a few last checks around before he’s satisfied and flicks off the lights, using the lantern to make their way back to the tunnel. Chris leads him towards the boulder, but takes another tunnel that goes further under the hill until it reaches a fork. Chris follows the right hand tunnel where there’s something covered in a tarp and boxes stacked against the wall.

“Wait here,” says Chris. He hands Zach the lantern and disappears at Vampire speed into the dark. Zach can hear him doing something, but Chris returns a few moments later, and hands Zach a bundle of strapped up cash. It’s cold from being stored underground, but it looks brand new.

“Oh, shit,” says Zach when he gets a good look at it. “Did you seriously just hand me fifty grand?”

“Yeah, spend it wisely,” says Chris.

“Whoa, wait, what?”

“Well, I figure you might be out of a job for a while, since you, you know, took me from them. You might as well be able to live.”

Zach thinks of Zoë. It’s really the first time he’s had a chance to. He feels guilty about leaving her and Eric behind. Did they manage to get out? It was close to dawn when Zach left and he doesn’t think Zoë would leave Eric behind. Maybe he could go back and get them. But he has no idea how that would work. “Dude, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

“Why do you think it’s here, and not in a bank?”

“Fees?” says Zach still trying to fathom the amount of money he’s holding. It’s more than his own savings, though a significantly lesser amount than his current, or rather, previous salary, but when it’s blatantly dropped into your hands it takes a little to realize you’re holding fifty grand!

“It’s because I have too much.”

“Oh,” says Zach not really sure what Chris means. “But even so, I can’t just take this. I’d never be able to pay you back.”

Chris sighs, swiping a hand over his face. “I have a net worth of seven hundred and thirty million, two hundred and twelve thousand, nine hundred and forty seven dollars. Twenty five million of which is stashed down here. Fucking take it.”

Zach gapes at the money wondering what seven hundred million actually looks like. “But you live like a hobo,” he says.

“I live like I do because I’m forced to. The Weres don’t know about this place. I haven’t lived five hundred years with nothing to show for it. I have too few pleasures to just flaunt them under Were noses.” Chris whips off the tarp to reveal a pristine Ducati motorbike.

“Jesus, dude, what else haven’t you told me?” says Zach wondering if Chris has an island hide away.

“It would fill a library,” says Chris.

Zach wants to ask for more, glean a little more insight from the Vampire who’s lived longer than he can realistically fathom. What he wouldn’t give to learn more about the man Chris was before he’d come to know him. But he knows he needs to bide his time, take it slow and accept the crumbs before he’s allowed some cake.

“How big a library?” he asks. Chris sees his smile and returns it.

“Fucking huge,” he says and hands him a helmet.  “I only have one helmet, which you better take.”

“Sure,” says Zach. He knows how to ride, but quickly moved onto cars. He’s never been pillion and likes the idea of added protection since he’s about to trust another to control the bike. “What’s the plan?”

Chris licks his lips, purses them and licks again. “I gotta find someone,” he says no longer looking at Zach. “In Vegas, to see about my, um, pending transition.”

“Oh,” says Zach, feeling guilty.

“Let’s just get to Vegas,” says Chris taking hold of the bike. “We’ll cross one bridge at a time.”

“Yeah,” says Zach fitting the helmet over his head. He begins to wonder at the condition each bridge might actually be in. They head out of the tunnel and Chris pushes the bike out, then goes to replace the boulder. “Will everything be okay in there?” says Zach. Chris shoves the boulder back in place. Zach doesn’t think anyone has a chance of shifting it, but it doesn’t stop him worrying.

“Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

Zach nods, feeling guilty. He’s not surprised Chris blames him for the loss of the mine. He just hopes Chris’s stay in Vegas won’t be a poor substitute. He climbs on and clings to Chris as the Vampire guns the engine and accelerates, flying over the desert towards Tonopah and the highway.

Zach watches the bland landscape zip past as they whiz along the highway towards Vegas. He wonders if the Vegas Weres reported the cave-in as having no survivors. They might not have known how deep the mine went, but would Peter want to assess that himself?

He sees the bright lights of the city on the horizon. A hot shower and normal bed will be very welcome; maybe they could share the shower before they figure out the rest of their plans. The thought shoots straight to his groin and he fidgets a little on the bike seat as he tries to avoid announcing his condition to Chris’s backside.

 

Chris curls over the bike willing the damn thing to get them to Vegas as quickly as possible. It still irks him that Zach had taken them to the mine. Years of preparation and planning gone in a cloud of dust as his only means of protecting the world from himself disintegrated. He knows he shouldn’t blame Zach; if anything it was quick thinking on the Were’s part given he hadn’t told him where the mine was. Seems Zach had gone to the storage locker and had found his plans. He knows everything inside the mine will be safe. The boulder would need to be removed with dynamite and the amount of rubble from the explosion would take several days with an excavator to clear away.

It was the reason he used explosive. He’d planned to starve himself, rendering him too weak to shift the boulder, but capable of moving the rocks that would block the entrance. With the entrance already destroyed he has no way in other than the boulder and he would need his strength to shift it. Fuck it! With the mine no longer an option, Chris knows he only has one other choice come February 16th.

He feels Zach wriggle behind him, his arms tightening around his waist. He zips under a large white bridge and then, like passing through some portal, they see Las Vegas sprawl out before them. Chris has been here on many occasions and remembers the time when he lived here. It seems like so long ago, but it might as well have been yesterday.

The hotel is in keeping with the rest of Vegas, grandiose, elaborately decorated and not too snobby. The staff don’t look down their noses at the pair of disheveled and rather grubby guests. And they don’t even quail when Chris asks for a pass to the spa after declining a room booking.

They’re shown through to the elaborate facilities where patrons are swimming and lounging around an enormous indoor pool. The showers are located nearby and the porter gives them each a big fluffy towel. Thanking him profusely, Chris is just glad once he’s gone so they can hurry up and get out.

“Been a while since you were here?” asks Zach dumping the duffle on the floor. It holds the cash Chris gave him and the few groceries that were left. Chris can hear the tentative tone as the Were asks about his past.

“In Vegas?” he clarifies, picking up a bottle of peach and coconut scented shampoo. “Yeah, a few years now,” he says cautiously. He hates keeping things from Zach, but the less the Were knows, the safer Chris can keep him. Zach’s pulled out a cell phone and seems to be texting. “Won’t they trace that?” he asks.

Zach looks up. “It’s a disposable. Zoë and I got them before we headed to Joshua Tree. Figured emails were a no go as they would be far too easily traced. And we both knew our other cells would be compromised. This is the first time I’ve had a signal. I really need to get in touch with her.”

“Of course,” says Chris nodding. “That’s generally why I used disposables.”

“Part of the plan once we got you out was I would text her to let her know we were safe. Then she could text back to let me know if she and Eric were okay.” Zach finishes and puts the phone in his pocket. It only reminds Chris that he needs to change his phone and find out about Anton. A nasty curl of fear swirls about his stomach. He has the worst feeling that Peter may not have kept his word and let Anton go.  “Zoë’s probably freaking out that I haven’t been in touch.”

“Yeah,” says Chris. “I can imagine she would be worried.” He’d like to thank her, thank them both for what she and Eric did. He’s fairly sure Zach would never have pulled it off if he hadn’t had their help.

“So-o,” says Zach his tone adding suggestion to the word as he strokes a thumb along Chris’s cheek. “While I wait for her reply, shall we shower?”

Whoever designed the hotel was thoughtful enough to give the showers a completely separate room to each other, enabling the privacy of a full bathroom. Predominately white, the gleaming tiles are accented by trims of black and silver. A vase of fresh lilies stands on the vanity and the shampoos and hair products are all displayed in exquisite little bottles.

Chris jiggles the little bottle of shampoo he’s been toying with and sets it down. “Yeah, why not,” he says though he doesn’t meet Zach’s gaze. Being here only solidifies the fact that Chris has failed. The steps he’d taken, the precautions, the research, everything he did to keep humanity safe is now gone. He gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Zach’s also looking at him in the glass, the hand that was caressing his cheek slides down his back. They’re both filthy after the few days spent underground. He’s amazed the hotel staff allowed them through the front door. But he was confident they wouldn’t argue when he pulled out the wad of cash from his pocket.

“I seriously fucked up, didn’t I?” says Zach.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Chris looking away from the mirror so he doesn’t have to look at the sincerity in Zach’s eyes.

“Chris, I’m really sorry. If I’d had proper time to plan, or some idea of to where to go…”

“It’s okay, Zach, really,” says Chris. He moves away, feels Zach’s hand slip from him before he stops to inspect the lilies.

“It doesn’t sound okay,” says the Were. He follows him the few steps until he’s there beside him again and Chris can feel the glorious warmth radiating from him. “Is there time for a Plan C?”

“No, nothing would be strong enough. You should have left me as Kine.”

“Um, the fuck? Don’t you dare,” says Zach sounding stung, but he grasps Chris’s biceps and even gives him a bit of a shake, although the Were’s not strong enough to physically move Chris. “I went through hell to get you out. Jesus, dude, don’t even say that. Fuck, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” says Chris looking up, his breath faltering when he sees the hurt in Zach’s eyes. “God, I’m sorry, that was mean; I’m not taking you for granted, I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me.”

“I saw what they did there Chris, it just about killed me to see you like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris whispers. Zach hugs him, those long arms enveloping him as he hugs back. “Did you still want that shower?”

“Yes,” says Zach with a kiss to his temple. “Please, just, yes.”

The water is warm, and the grime from being underground sluices off their bodies as they kiss under the stream. Chris’s leaden heart eases with the running water and Zach’s kisses are becoming persuasive as he licks into Chris’s mouth. The Were holds him close, his arms could almost be crushing had they any influence over a Vampire’s physique.

“Did you wanna fuck?” asks Zach his lips on Chris’s ear, sucking at the lobe, and tonguing into it softly. Zach’s hand slides along his flank against the flow of water before it smoothes down Chris’s back and over his ass.

His cock answers for him, steadily rising from the effect of Zach’s talented mouth. “Yeah,” says Chris taking hold of Zach’s rigid length, palming it against the Were’s belly and running a thumb over the slit. Chris had brought along the Vaseline and Zach scoops some onto his fingers.

“Turn around,” he says. Chris does as he’s told, leaning his head on his forearms. “Spread for me.” He shifts his feet and feels the thick Vaseline across his hole. Zach strokes along his crack, circling his ring with each pass until he finally dips in.

“Mm,” Chris sighs inadvertently, pushing back. When Zach enters him he presses his entire body against him, hands covering hands before fingers lace, and Zach’s heavy breath skims over Chris’s ear. His lips are all over Chris’s skin, sucking and licking and nipping at his flesh until Chris moans, his cock pressing into the wall.

Zach reaches around and takes up Chris’s cock with long firm strokes, squeezing at the head until Chris cries out.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so hard right now.”

“I love you like this,” Zach murmurs. “It’s the only time I feel stronger.”

“You are never in danger when I’m with you,” says Chris accepting Zach’s demanding kiss. In that moment he stops blaming Zach for destroying the mine. The Were had done all he could to bring Chris back from a fate he never wanted and had spent his entire life avoiding. Though he’s not looking forward to it, at least there is a Plan B.

“Believe me when I say it’s _you_ who needs protection when we’re together.” Zach shoves in hard to make his point and Chris groans, reaching back to grasp Zach’s ass.

“Then fuck me like you mean it,” he says, spreading his legs further as Zach slams into his body. He grips the wall, eyes squeezed shut and the delightful burn of being truly possessed ignites through him. There will always be mistakes and upset, but he’d rather face them with Zach, than alone. Zach’s the only one who ever managed to help him overcome his deep-seeded grief. The _only_ one.

Zach clutches his shoulders, buries himself over and over until Chris comes with a yell, shooting over the tile and clamping firmly around Zach’s cock. The additional pressure pushes Zach over the edge and he comes with a loud grunt, forcing himself deeper into the Vampire’s cool body.

Panting, Chris leans on the wall and Zach leans on him. The water douses them though Chris knows he’s still cool to touch.

“I love you so much,” Zach whispers. “I’m so sorry I’ve been a disappointment.”

Chris turns to face him, cupping his face so their eyes meet. “You’re not a disappointment, and we’ve come so far.” He pauses, unsure how to verbalize the extent of the path they’ve traveled, and the one they’re yet to follow. “I love you and I mean that. You’re so important to me and I cannot fathom my life without you now. It just doesn’t bear thinking.”

Zach nods and Chris kisses him long and hard, sweet and slow.

 

The text back from Zoë is brief. _Back in LA_. It both annoys and worries Zach because compared to hers, his text had been perhaps a bit long winded.

“She got much to say?” asks Chris as he puts his shoes on.

“No,” says Zach. He puts the phone down and starts primping at his still wet hair in the mirror. “She just says she’s in LA. I can only assume she’s safe. And she hasn’t mentioned Eric. Obviously they sent her back to LA, but it could be her job is in jeopardy or she’s waiting for whatever disciplinary action they’ll take.”

“Because of me,” Chris says.

“Hey, no,” says Zach turning away from the mirror to face the Vampire. “None of that. Zo’ and I knew, we both knew what it would mean.”

“Did you want to go to her? Make sure she’s okay?”

For a moment Zach’s speechless. He’d like nothing more than to go and see Zoë, see for himself that she really is okay and nothing untoward is in store for her or Eric. “I’m worried they’ll take Eric from her. She’d be devastated if they did.”

“Then maybe you should go.”

“But what about you and Plan B; shouldn’t I stay?” But Chris is already shaking his head.

“It makes more sense for you to go back. We can each sort our shit out and meet back here. Let’s go find a disposable cell for me then we’re all in the clear of being traced. You’ll be safe in LA if you keep to yourself and whatever you do, do not go into WOLPh.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Zach relieved he can go, but also nervous at leaving Chris. “Just until we sort this out.” He hadn’t anticipated going back to LA, and though the Vampire attacks are never far from his thoughts, he too believes he’ll be okay if he remains incognito.

The hotel staff graciously gives them directions to the nearest cell phone store. It’s a short ride on the bike and it’s quite empty of customers. Chris picks the upgrade from his current phone and when it becomes functional, he checks his small list of contacts in the old phone, memorizing the few he’ll need, then snaps the SIM in half. They exchange each other’s number and Zach feels a lot better once they leave.

When they reach the bike he stops. “It won’t be long,” says Chris and places the keys to the bike in Zach’s hand. “Take it,” he says, squeezing Zach’s hand gently as he does so. “It’ll get you there quicker than waiting for a flight. Stay safe.”

Zach had thought Chris could give him a ride to the airport. But the idea of trying to pass his duffle full of money through the security gate just makes it unwise. The bike is a much better idea, but it means one thing, he won’t be seeing Chris for a while.

“Jesus, Chris,” Zach breathes as realization that this is happening and he has to leave the Vampire behind grip at his throat. “What the fuck happened?”

Chris grabs the back of Zach’s neck and kisses his forehead. “We met.”

 

Zipping along the highway Zach figures a plane wouldn’t have been any better at racing away from the thoughts in his head. Even his break up with Matt didn’t feel as desolate a separation as he feels, and he and Chris haven’t even broken up!

The constant argument running through his head is that it’ll only be for a little while, but the opposing side reminds him there’s no set time and a little while can easily stretch out to a long time. In an attempt to keep himself from screaming he considers the fact that this is an opportunity to see his pets and perhaps make better arrangements for them than boarding them. He can check in with his mother and even Joe, just as long as he lays low and doesn’t draw attention to himself. The last thing he needs is for Peter to know he’s here.

He wants to assume that Peter is still in Joshua Tree, but after he took off with Chris there’s no telling what Peter would have done. At least he can take solace in the fact that he didn’t take it out on Zoë. If anything had happened to her…

By the time he reaches the outskirts of LA the sun has fully risen and his stomach is telling him it’s definitely time to eat. He stops for fuel and a quick bite before he heads towards the inner suburbs. His internal GPS desperately tries to remember landmarks and road names, but even though he’s only been there the once, he finds the address and pulls into the drive.

He knocks firmly, hoping someone’s home and is relieved when the door opens and Zoë’s there standing in the most casual outfit he’s ever seen her in.

“Zach?”

“Hey Zo,” he says, before she engulfs him in a fierce hug.

 

 Chris is dressed in a fine suit, clean and crisp he looks sharp receiving several appreciative glances. He toys with his chips and casts a glance to the other players. Black Jack is his favorite and one of the reasons he’s as rich as he is. But his mind’s not on the game and he loses a few thousand simply because he’s not paying attention.

He knows he needs to call Anton, but the truth of it is he’s terrified of what he’ll find out. He’s convinced the kid is dead; that in spite of begging for his life, he can’t imagine Peter has been true to his word. The only number Chris has for Anton is a cell. He’s dialed it several times, but before it connects to anything he cancels the call.

He’d watched Zach zoom away on the bike, the sight of which practically tore his heart from his chest. The time had come. His next stop was a store that stocked his favorite brand of suit. It’s been a long time since he had one, but he was pleased to see they were still there, even if his regular tailor had long since retired. One of the great things about Vegas is nothing closes. He’s soon donned in shirt, suit and a beautiful pair of leather shoes made in Italy.

To call Anton then, assuming the kid is alive, would hardly be respectful given the hour. So Chris went to his favorite casino to while away the hours. He wouldn’t normally spend so much and be so frivolous, but if he’s to blend in he needed to look the part.

He keeps an eye on the time, hoping it will stop or slow, but the minutes keep ticking by until he can’t put it off any longer.

Leaving the casino, Chris wanders around a grand fountain, following its perimeter as he holds his phone and sees the sky is beginning to lighten.

Time is running out. The excuse that Peter will trace the call picks at his mind like a hot needle, but with his new phone the only way any tracing of calls will happen is if Peter somehow bugged Anton’s phone. And why the hell does it matter? Where he’s going Peter’s the _least_ of his worries. Fuck it! He begins dialing.

“Hello?” says a voice crackling with sleep. Thank God! Chris almost forgets to reply, he’s too overcome with relief that Anton’s okay.

“Anton?” he says, still ready to be disappointed. “It’s Chris.”

“Oh my God, Chris?” comes the screech down the line. “You’re okay? Jesus, you’re _alive_!”

“Yeah, I’m good. How are you? What happened?” He’s amazed Peter let him go and wonders why. Why wouldn’t he just make Anton disappear?

“Oh, man! You have _no_ idea!” says Anton. “They let me go, but then I figured I could maybe try and get you back myself.”

“Anton, Jesus dude, what did you do?” He’d been adamant that Anton just get the hell out and stay safe.

“Not much, when I went back to WOLPh the lady at the desk called security,” he says. “I didn’t hang around.” Chris can hear the disappointment.

“Well, thank God for that!”

“But they took us Chris! They took us and that bitch bit me!” says Anton indignantly.

“I know, dude, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry you were hauled into all of this.”  It’s perhaps an even greater regret than losing the mine: that someone who had nothing to do with any of it was taken as bait for the Vampire. Chris is angry that Anton’s innocence was violated. Taken against his will and harmed by those who make it their business to protect humankind.

“It’s not your fault. And you have no idea how relieved I am to hear from you.”

“I can’t talk for long. I hope to see you again one day, though it won’t be for quite some time,” says Chris wondering if he’ll ever get back to LA.

“Lu replaced you,” says Anton.

“Oh, well that’s a good thing.” He says, because it is.

“She’s not you, Chris!”

“I know, but if she’s looking after all of you then that makes me happy.” He sends a mental thank you to Lucia. He left her high and dry, but the woman was resourceful and had myriad contacts. Chris wasn’t the only Vampire she knew.

“Oh,” says Anton, as though surprised Chris is happy about it. “Well, she’s pretty good, but _I_ still miss you.”

“I miss everyone, too. Take care, Anton.”

“You too, please be safe and come visit soon.”

He walks away from the fountain, the heat of dawn already penetrating his suit even though the sun is a mere glow on the horizon. He needs to find shelter for the day and his only option is one he’s been putting off and trying to avoid. The entrance itself is hidden from the general public, but Chris knows Vegas back to front and has no trouble finding it. He can feel his feet dragging, but his safety, if only for today, is paramount.

Chris enters a beautiful hotel decorated for the most part in style of art nouveau: gothic architecture’s ode to nature. The walls, floors, furniture and art work exude the flow and grace of natural lines and shapes. It always makes him smile to see it. So much thought had been put into building it. Nothing had been overlooked.  Even when technology came it was clear the creator of this beauty ensured nothing would impede the essence the building implied.

Chris strolls through the lobby, noting the slight differences in furniture placement, and the fresh coat of paint. But it still smells the same, the tiles on the floor are the same and even his favorite art piece hangs in the exact same place. He tries not to think of it as worrying.

Behind the elevators is a corridor which he turns into without being stopped. He figures by now the inner sanctum of his destination is alive with activity as the image of him walking through the hotel is traced from camera to camera. Communications will be flying back and forth, questions asked, identity clarified and a single breath held incase what is presented is a mere fragment of imagination.

Behind several doors, each a security check point Chris comes to the most unassuming of all, aside from the obvious camera that swivels on its perch the moment he stops in front of the door. He restrains himself from flipping the bird or mouthing a swear word.

There’s clunk as the door, belying its ordinary appearance, unlocks and slowly begins to swing open. A breeze of soft, cool air carries a scent as familiar as his own. He steps across the threshold and into the darker depths of safety and at one time, home.

 

  

End of Book One

 

 

Excerpt from Book Two:  Blood From a Stone

 

Chris stands, feet apart and his hands clasped behind him. He stares at an enormous renaissance painting that hangs above a large desk.  The high-backed chair behind the desk also faces the painting. It sways from side to side as the occupant twists it back and forth.

“I should say I’m surprised to see you here,” says the voice from the man in the chair. It’s deep, resplendent and distinctly British. “But since a rather significant date to both of us is almost here, I’m really not surprised at all.” He twists the chair 180 degrees to face Chris.

“My alternative was…” Chris pauses. He hates having to admit defeat. He did everything he could to avoid this, but now he’s left with little choice. “Compromised,” he finishes.

“Of course, that’s why I knew you would seek me out. Why I patiently waited for you to come to your senses.”

“I had no intention of—”

“You had _every_ intention, boy,” he barks, interrupting with the force of that voice and a glare. “You think I’ve forgotten? That what you did lay so far in the past it would be forgiven and left to wither and rot?”

“Be-, Fa-,” he stumbles in his attempt to remain respectful, because he’s treading on ground even more fragile than eggshells. “Sir, please.” He unclasps his hands and steps forward. But the regal man in front of him merely holds up a hand and he’s compelled to stop.

“You’ve come to me for shelter, to ride out your wave into the next phase of our existence. I understand; I really do, having been there myself.”

“I don’t need to be here yet, and it’s just for one night. I know you’ll have some means to ensure I can’t harm anyone.” He’d prefer not to have to stay any longer than necessary.

“Of course I do!” he snaps. “I might have sought the same had anything been in existence, had I even been aware.” He stands, pushing the chair under the desk. “But I won’t have you wandering the streets of Vegas like a tramp. I insist you remain here and when the time comes I will guide you through the process and see to it that you endure the transition as comfortably as possible. After all, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

A spike of something nasty shoots through Chris’s heart. He purses his lips and bites his tongue doing his best to silence the arguments he so desperately wants to intone. So it begins: the torture Benedict has probably been plotting and planning since the day Chris left. He barely escaped with his life. But those circumstances have festered with Benedict and doubtless he will want to ensure Chris understands the consequences of what he did.


End file.
